"You're awfully quiet. Is the ritualI mean, does it all make sense? I know it's crazy. I just wanted to...honey, please. Tell me what's going on, why you're looking at me like that."

Taryn c.o.c.ked her head. "You're giving me the chance to save my friend. Lovers or not, I'll owe you for the rest of my life for what you did tonight. I asked for a hero and you showed up."

The word went through Rosalind like a knife or an arrow. Hero. It was the echo of an old conversation, a conversation that had shaped lives. She had always wanted to be a hero, but there was something missing from it. "I just followed my dream, baby. If there's a hero, it's you. You have to end it."

Taryn snorted. "I'm no hero. If I do anything that resembles heroics, it's because of you. You give me the knowledge and the strength."

"Fine, we do it together. All right?"

A smile of pure joy spread across Taryn's face. "Yeah. That feels right."

"I have to go get a few things for tonight. Baby, I'd take you with me, but I think you're needed here today. After last night, you and Rhea might have a few things left to say. And you should talk to Joe." Rosalind pulled Taryn into her arms. She lay back immediately.

"I didn't tell you what went on between me and Rhea," Taryn said, glancing at her.

"You will, when you can. It didn't feel right to push."

"Do you understand all this stuff because you're older, or because you're just good with people? I can't manage a conversation without smashing things."

Rosalind turned Taryn's bandaged hand over in both of hers. "I'm not convinced I understand anything. But we'll work on the smashing part. Okay?"

"Yeah." Taryn leaned in and kissed Rosalind good-bye.

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Sixteen.

"What's next on the list?" Ellie asked, picking up the candles and putting them in the paper bag that sat open between her knees.

"Arrows. An arrow, actually. I think I only need one," Rosalind said, looking up from the pile of debris surrounding her on her living room floor.

"You think. You have a dream about magic and death, and instead of attributing it to bad food or tequila, you go arrow shopping. You don't sound like yourself, sweetie."

"No, I sound like an actress who is so superst.i.tious about going onstage, she won't open a show without a piece of jade in her socks." Rosalind raised an eyebrow at Ellie.

"Low blow. Love the eyebrow thing. Get that from our teenager, did we?"

"She's twenty. I wish everyone would stop calling her a teenager." Rosalind sighed.

"No, you don't, because it makes you feel young and vital to be sleeping with a girl who can't drink yet. What about this one?" Ellie held up an aluminum shaft with red fletching.

"There's no point on it. It has to have a point," Rosalind said, examining it.

"Everything you do has to have a point. You can choose the head-see the little screw marks?" Ellie held up the example.

Rosalind picked up a package of arrowheads and examined them. "These."

The humor left Ellie's face. "Those are for bear hunting. You could punch a hole in a Toyota with that thing. Are you sure?"

Rosalind opened the package and felt the weight of the razor-edged steel in her palm. The original arrows had been cane, fletched with desert eagle, with heads of graceful bronzework. If she closed her eyes, she could still see their flight. The bear-killing head was far more brutal in appearance. It would be perfect as a symbol of death. "Yes."

Ellie shrugged. "Okay, arrow, check. Deadly looking bear-hunting arrowhead, check. We have the candles. We have the costumes. We have enough incense to make a hippie blush. Anything else you need?"

"I don't think so. The important thing is the arrow. I've never designed a ritual before. I'm not sure how to go about it."

"Theater started out as ritual, so you came to the right place. Tell me the basic plot, we'll design something gorgeous. A little spectacle, some emotion, a big climax. It's just like theater. Dress well, pick good lighting, a flashy moment or two to bring the audience in, and have something pretty to say to tie it all up," Ellie said, folding the bag closed.

"You make it sound easy." Rosalind stood up, abandoning her nest of paper, books, candles, and incense.

"Ritual should be easy, I think. Gorgeous, emotional, but understandable. Why else did you ask me to help you on your supernatural treasure hunt? I take it seriously, but not too seriously."

Ellie settled back against the couch, her arm stretched out in invitation.

Rosalind accepted and sat down next to her friend. "I haven't really prayed since third grade. I don't even know who I'm praying to. I asked you to help me because I trust you, with my life and hers." Rosalind's eyes found Ellie's and held them.

"Careful, that sounded serious. Tell me the story again. I'll give you some believable action."

Rosalind took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "The prince was captured. The fortune-teller threw herself in front of the arrow. She couldn't let the prince die."

"That sounds familiar," Ellie said dryly.

"That act of sacrifice set the whole pattern in motion. Ever since, the women of Rhea's bloodline have loved and protected the women of Taryn's, up till now-"

"But then you come in to end the cosmic codependence," Ellie said, putting her arm around Rosalind's shoulders.

"But then I come in. I can only hope my ancestor was right about this. The dream was hers, just waiting until a woman of my line could understand it," Rosalind said, leaning forward and resting her arms on her knees.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but if you accept all this, how in the world do you think you can change it? Aren't there mystic laws and such playing out?"

"That's the part I have to take on faith. I can't believe that we have no control over our own destiny, that G.o.d, or whoever, could be cruel enough to give us the capacity to love then s.n.a.t.c.h it away. I have no way of knowing. But in the face of not knowing, I choose to live like I have the power to change things. It's all I have."

"I think you're a few bats shy of a belfry. But what the h.e.l.l. We've got nothing to lose."

"Thanks. I think."

"Okay. Believable action. Stuff the audience can read. I've got it. Start with the scene from the dream. We need to set up Rhea as Taryn's caretaker. Taryn just punched a window, right? Have Rhea change the bandages."

Rosalind remembered the sight of Taryn sitting quietly on the kitchen floor, blood down to her elbow, while Rhea picked gla.s.s shards out of the wound. She'd known then that they had done that before. There was too deep a feeling of recognition at the sight. "All right. We'll need to bring the priestess in. The archway between the living room and the middle room would serve for the gate. I could wait there for the prince."

"Perfect. Taryn will have to do drag, won't that be a shame. But you will need to be captured by soldiers to set up the execution. Joe could play one, I could play another. We'll need more, I think. Laurel and Goblin. The important thing is the arrow. Do you want to?" Ellie asked, holding up the shaft.

Light played along the razor edge of the head, designed to pierce a thick wall of fur, flesh, and muscle. It was too savage a thing to belong to the world she knew, but she'd purchased it at Kmart. Maybe humans haven't changed all that much since we hacked each other apart with swords.

"No. It's not my symbol. It needs to be one of the soldiers. Would you?"

"Shoot a bear-killing arrow at your girlfriend? Sure. What are friends for?" Ellie said with a straight face.

"Have you ever been to one of these ceremonies before?"

"A Wiccan circle? Sure. They have one every month at the Unitarian Church on Elmwood."

Rosalind whistled between her teeth. "Wow. Unitarians are more liberal than I thought."

"They ain't Methodists from Poughkeepsie, sister." Ellie stood up and stretched, then held her hand out to Rosalind.

"Sister. I like that. We should have been sisters."

Ellie was very quiet for a moment, her face uncharacteristically still. Then she laughed and tossed her hair back on her shoulders. "Maybe we were, in another life. I hear there's a lot of that going around."

"Oh, stop. Tell me what happens." Rosalind started gathering up the wreckage of her living room, unable to suppress the need for cleanliness her mother had drummed into her. Supernatural treasure hunts and mystic patterns notwithstanding, a clean house was a must.

"Well, usually they cast the circle, sort of draw an imaginary line around everyone to create a sacred s.p.a.ce. They call the directions and the center. Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the South kind of stuff. It's an invitation for the spirits, or G.o.ds, or powers to come in and play. After the ritual is done, the circle is declared open again."

"Invitation. That has a good feel to it. I think we're ready. What should I wear?" Rosalind started walking toward her bedroom.

"Black is always good. But then, black is always good for anything." Ellie looked at the narrow black pants and black silk shirt she was wearing and smiled.

Rosalind came back out of the bedroom in a black turtleneck and pants. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, arrayed with disheveled perfection.

Ellie looked at her for a long moment, absorbing the changes in her friend. Rosalind looked stunning, even in the simple clothing. There was a lightness to her, almost an aura. In the week since she'd met Taryn, Rosalind's nervous mannerisms had vanished. Rosalind carried herself like a woman who had found who she was and was happy in that knowledge. "You look great," Ellie said, awed.

"You're just saying that because I'm starting to dress like you." Rosalind smiled at her.

"No. You've changed, Ros. Love agrees with you."

The shy smile that answered Ellie was like a splinter of light caught in a gem's facet, a hint of radiance that was painful to look at directly. Rosalind had found her mystery.

Ellie endured the br.i.m.m.i.n.g silence as long as she could, before giving in to her impulse to speak, to change the subject, to dance about with words. "Do you know what you'll say for the big wrap-up?"

"I have something in mind," Rosalind said, but didn't elaborate.

It was evening, and the street was crowded with cars. Rosalind parked down near Virginia. They walked up the street, kicking leaves into the air. Rosalind carried the paper bag in front of her chest.

"You look like a schoolgirl with her books. Will you relax?" Ellie whispered to her.

"Probably not. You know that. I'm still nervous."

"Let's see. A house full of witches, meeting for a full-moon circle. One hears voices, one predicts the future and identifies past lives, one flouts gender convention for fun. And you're worried about what they'll think of you?" Ellie rolled her eyes.

Rosalind laughed. "Yeah, it does seem kind of silly."

"She can't wait to see you. I know, because you can't wait to see her. It'll be fine." Ellie put her hand on the small of Rosalind's back and pushed her along.

Joe was sitting on the top of the steps, smoking a cigar down to the band. He was all in green, from the dusty green of his pants, to the deep forest green of his shirt. Next to him, leaning against the column, was Taryn.

The sight of her stopped Rosalind in her tracks. Taryn's posture was meant to be casual, but Rosalind could read the tension in her body, even from a distance. She wore a tank top and a pair of jeans that hung low on her hips. Her dark head was resting against the column. Her bandaged hand hung at her side, a reminder that she was mortal and could be hurt.

"My, she certainly is a healthy specimen," Ellie drawled, looking at the broad set of Taryn's shoulders and the definition of her arms.

Rosalind just looked up at her. Taryn's head turned, slowly, until her eyes found Rosalind's. She could feel it like a touch, the force of her gaze.

"Evening, Ros. Good to see you again, Ellie. Will you be joining us tonight?" Joe said, smiling.

"I believe I will, if that's all right. Ros had something she wanted help with." Ellie left Rosalind on the sidewalk and marched up the steps.

Joe rose and tossed away the end of his cigar. "Perfectly all right. Splendid, even. Why don't you come in? I have some hot cider on the stove, just the thing for a crisp fall night." He opened the screen door and held it for her.

"Sounds great."

They vanished into the house, ignoring the silence between the two left on the porch. Rosalind walked slowly up the steps, the paper bag clutched to her chest. The sheer audacity of what she proposed hit her, hard. She had no idea of what to say to Taryn, and it made her awkward.

Taryn seemed to feel it. She stayed where she was, leaning back against the pale purple column. "You get what you needed today?"

"Yes. I hope so," Rosalind said, then decided that she was being ridiculous. She set the bag down and opened her arms.

Taryn came into them immediately, the ferocity of her embrace a.s.suring Rosalind that she'd done the right thing.

"You okay, baby?" she asked, kissing her cheek.

"I am now. You were right," Taryn said, her voice a low rumble in her chest.

"About what?"

"Staying home today. Rhea and I had a talk, without smashing anything. I made up with Joe. I even apologized for being a jerk. You'd have been proud of me."

"I am proud of you." Rosalind put her hand over Taryn's heart, feeling the irregular drumming under the skin. It beat harder when she left her hand there.

"I don't get it. I'm happy about it, but I don't get it. It's like I've got you fooled. One day you're going to wake up and look at me and be, like, she's an uneducated little punk. What am I doing with her?"

Rosalind laughed. She saw Taryn's face harden into furious lines instantly. Rosalind took Taryn's head in her hands. "No, sweetheart. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because that's what I thought when you first spent the night at my place. You'd wake up and think I was too old, or boring, or vanilla, and wonder what you were doing with me."

It took a moment for a smile to work through the remains of anger on Taryn's face. She fought it, but it came, a smile that spread from ear to ear. "We're made for each other."

"We are."

"Rosalind, I don't care where it came from, if we knew each other before or what. I want you. I want it to work with us," Taryn said, her voice low and urgent.

"I want that, too. I think that, after tonight, we can have that conversation. There will be room for it." Rosalind leaned up and kissed Taryn.

"So, you gonna tell me what's in the bag?"