Aunt Martha chuckled softly. "It was just a telemarketer, trying to sell one of those publishers series of books."

"On what?"

"What else? It's Halloween season. The history of witchcraft!"

Finn hesitated on the street for a long time, staring at the shop window.

At last, he determined to go in.

Sara was on guard duty at the doorstep. She looked at Finn warily.

"Is it busy in there?" he asked.

"What do you think? But you can go on in. You're family." She said the last as if she were mimicking Morwenna.

"Thanks." He walked by her. Joseph was behind the counter. Morwenna was showing someone capes. Jamie Gray was busy adjusting the store logo T-shirts on the shelves.

Morwenna saw him from her position near the beaded part.i.tion to the back. She smiled and waved enthusiastically. He realized as she did so that Megan hadn't come to her shop.

He looked at a display shelf full of dragons, but this time, refrained from touching. A minute later, Morwenna came up to him, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Where's my cousin?" she asked.

"I was hoping you would know," he said honestly.

Morwenna frowned. If nothing else, she was a good actress. "You've lost her? In Salem? It's not that big a place," she teased.

"She hasn't been here, I take it."

Morwenna shook her head. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't mean to hesitate, but he did. "No, nothing."

Morwenna studied him gravely. "Finn... I have a good friend here who owns a really great bookstore, and... he thinks that something is going on. And that you're the key to it."

"Something is going on, and I'm the key to it?" he repeated.

Morwenna sighed. "I can hear it in your voice, you're not about to believe anything that I say. Finn... haven't you felt... strange, at times? Joseph and I were commenting on the nights lately. We have fog here a lot, but... not like the fog we've had lately."

"I agree, weird fog, a weather phenomena," he said.

Morwenna studied him for a minute, then rushed in, "Wiccans are good, Finn. I swear. And intuitive, and... there's a feeling that something that isn't good is going on. Eddie started telling me about an old story he found in a diary, about a group-not of Wiccans!-but of Satanists who were at it here once, years and years ago, a few centuries ago, actually-" "And they weren't burned at the stake?"

"No one was burned at the stake here, Finn. They were hanged; Giles Corey was pressed to death. Of course, others accused of witchcraft were also executed in the colonies, but the 'hysteria' always refers to that one time-"

"I know all that, Morwenna. My point is, how would Satanists rise in a place where the populace was being arrested right and left for 'spectral' evidence and any other flimsy excuse?"

"That was the perfect time, right after, don't you see? The people were horrified about what had happened within the past decade.

No one at that time would have thought of openly accusing someone of witchcraft again. The community was embarra.s.sed. Many were appalled. So if something came up... well, according to Eddie, the people who knew about it simply took care of it all on their own. And that's why it's not in most history books."

He was startled when someone spoke softly behind him. "She left you, didn't she?"

He spun around. Sara, who else?

"My relationship with my wife isn't really your concern, is it?"

"People are trying to help you. Though I don't know why."

"I don't think it's your help that I need. What I need is for people to quit telling Megan stories that give her terrible dreams."

"Finn, I know you don't believe... well, in us," Morwenna said. "You won't allow yourself to believe that there is anything in the world that you can't touch, and understand."

Angrily, he took two steps toward the display of herbs. "Keep this in my pocket-and money will come? Light some kind of incense, and my love life will improve? No, I'm sorry. Worship a tree? You know what I do believe? That there is one G.o.d, a supreme power. And-"

"If there is a G.o.d, one G.o.d, a supreme power, then what else may be true, Finn? A G.o.d, angels, and perhaps an angel that was cast from Heaven. Forces of good, and evil. Have you ever read the Old Testament, actually read it? Did an angel come down and speak to Mary? If you believe in any of these things, Finn, then you must understand that there can be forces of good as well as evil."

"Why don't we just run out on the street and start arresting people again-since there can be those forces of good and evil?" he countered.

"He can't be helped," Sara said.

Finn hesitated. The women were both staring at him so seriously. But there was Sara again, with that strange tension about her, as if she despised him, but could barely keep her hands off him. And G.o.d help him, there was that tension in him in return. He gritted his teeth. Every muscle in his body was painfully constricted. He needed to run out of the shop, to get as far away from her as he could.

He looked at Morwenna, who was staring at him so intently. Forces of good and evil. So, do you really want to help me, or seal the lid on my coffin ? Are you doing your best to make sure that Megan stays as far away from me as possible?

"Finn, you should come with me to see Eddie. Just come with me, and look at some of the books he has."

He had to get out of the shop. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Sara's cleavage. If they were alone together...

He would want to pounce, drag her down, and everything would be rough; he wanted to taste her mouth with its bizarrely red lipstick, rip off her clothing, ground into her against the hard floor, the walls... And all at the same time, he wanted his wife back.

He had to get out. Had to. He was a fool. There was no way to trust Morwenna.

He fought every bizarre urge that seemed to have possessed him, so tense he could barely speak or move. "Morwenna, thank you.

I'll call you later. Maybe we'll see this friend of yours, Eddie."

"Anytime, Finn. I don't care how busy the place is. I'll go with you. Please... open your mind Finn. For yourself, and for Megan."

"I'll try, Morwenna. Hey, all right... sometime. We'll go see this guy. I like books, any books. Can't hurt, right?"

He turned and started out. Joseph was behind the counter, without any customers at the moment. He had spread out the morning paper, and was reading intensely. He looked up as Finn started out.

"Hey, Joseph."

Joseph didn't reply. He was staring at him, as if he could look beneath Finn's skin, and see something inside him. An answer he was seeking.

"Finn... you went through Boston, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we flew in through Boston, why?"

Joseph shook his head. "No... before. When you went to see Megan's folks in Maine when she was staying with them. Last month. You drove up the coast, right?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, wondering what Joseph was getting at.

"Ever go to a bar called the Lobster's Tale?"

"The Lobster's Tale?" Finn shrugged. He was tempted to tell Joseph that it was none of his business. He might have wondered why Joseph knew his every move when he had driven up to Maine to find his wife and repair his marriage, but that would have been ridiculous. Megan's parents knew every move he had made. Her father had seemed happy that the two had settled their differences, and he imagined that Megan's mother had told her sister, her sister had told Morwenna, her daughter, and Morwenna had told Joseph.

Families were just great.

"Did you?" Joseph persisted.

Finn shrugged his shoulders, irritated with the question. What the h.e.l.l did it matter to Joseph? "Not that I recall. I drove up I-95 from the Washington area... wound up on US1 out of the city, and hate to admit it, but took a few wrong roads from there, when the path should have been pretty evident."

"Did you sleep in Boston then?"

"Did I sleep in Boston?"

"Spend the night there when you were driving up."

"I... yeah, I think I did. Or some little place right outside of the city. It was near a steakhouse with a bunch of cows in front."

"Ah."

"Why?""You don't remember the Lobster's Tale?"

"No, I don't remember any place called the Lobster's Tale? Why?"

"Oh, just curious."

"Joseph, no one is that persistent when they're just curious."

"We're trying to help you, Finn."

"Joseph, do me a big favor. Don't help me," Finn said angrily.

As he pa.s.sed by the counter, he caught the headlines on the paper Joseph was reading. "Slain Girl Last Seen at Lobster's Tale, Boston Bar."

His anger was suddenly explosive. He had to get the h.e.l.l out of the shop. If he didn't, he was going to grab Joseph by the black collar and strangle him.

The temptation was so great he could feel his fingers itching. He fought the urge desperately.

A second later, he burst out of the door, and out of the shop.

As soon as he hit the street, the tension left him. Joseph was an irritating, self-important a.s.shole, and that was all. And the thing with Sara... h.e.l.l, Sara was a short, annoying little creature who was not in the least appealing.

It was cold, and he was covered in sweat. He needed to get away from the throngs of people.

He needed to find his wife.

He bit into his lower lip, plagued by doubts, uncertainty, and a new anger.

With long strides, he started walking toward the new museum.

And a showdown with Mike Smith.

Megan did laundry, a mundane task that didn't do a thing to keep her mind off her marriage.

Walking back through the parlor with a pile of clothing, she found Martha going through sc.r.a.pbooks.

She looked up at Megan and grinned. "Come and look. I wonder if you've seen these in a while!"

Megan set her clothing on the end of the sofa and curled next to Martha. She a.s.sumed that Martha had dragged out a lot of old pictures from when she had been a child. They weren't those pictures at all.

They were Megan's wedding. Martha hadn't been there. Megan and Finn, broke college students who hadn't wanted her parents laying out a fortune, had decided on a quick ceremony with only their closest friends and immediate families.

But Martha had all the pictures. Megan a.s.sumed her mother had sent Martha a set, naturally.

They had chosen one of the oldest churches in the city. Finn had been incredibly elegant in tails with his own little quirks of design.

She had opted for a medieval style wedding gown in a pearl color. A close friend with a small design shop on Bourbon Street had cut and sewn the gown from something she had seen in a magazine.There were pictures of the two of them at the altar, getting into the carriage, dancing at the reception, cutting the cake. Megan looked through them slowly, feeling a dull ache in her heart. The best picture was one of the two of them at the carriage, Finn reaching up to help her down. So much that she had always loved about him seemed apparent in the picture. Not just the way he looked in the tails, dark hair enhanced by the ebony of the tails and the white, medieval shirt, impossibly tall, lithe, and indomitable, but the way that he looked at her hair. She wanted to touch the picture, as she so often touched his face. She loved every angle of it.

Loved the deep set of his eyes, the arch of his brows, the line of his jaw, even with his ability to set it so stubbornly when he was determined or angry. She had never been attracted to anyone from the onset as she had been to Finn. The first time she had seen him, she had known.

"You two cannot throw it all away," Martha said gently.

"I'm not throwing anything away."

"But then-"

"I'm afraid of him," Megan said honestly.

Martha hesitated a long time. "So... he was violent with you. And that's why you left him the first time and went to your folks in Maine."

"No. He's just strange since... since we've been here."

Martha sighed. "Megan, I know I keep repeating this, but honestly! You are two intelligent young people. And you're simply listening to too much hogwash!"

"Probably." Megan smoothed the page absently. "He suggested we should just leave. Maybe I should have agreed with him. It's just that... well, I believe he loves me. But he loves his music, too. And if we just took off on this job... You know how it goes. I mean-look how a silly little family rumor spreads! You and Morwenna know as much about my life as I do, so it seems, without ever having talked to me."

"Families do talk, dear. And, of course, we care about you. With the greatest pride and concern! And... well, tilings do go around.

When I received these pictures from your mom, for example, I showed them to everyone I came across. You two are just so very beautiful together."