Dark City

19.

The bookstore was within walking distance from Calaveras. A wooden sign hung from a balcony above the storefront, the hinges squeaking in the wind. Moonflower. The windows were alight with the flickering of candles and muffled laughter. Guitar emanated from within. As Tom and Nathan entered the store, the smell of sandalwood incense nearly knocked them over.

The bookstore was a supplier of all texts mystic and occult. They dealt in dried herbs, carved stones, incense powders, silver idols, spell kits and books upon books upon books. Nathan perused a few recurring authors and spotted multiple works by Aleister Crowley, a mystic he knew had been a prominent figure to devil-worshippers in the 1960s. On the wall, a frightening sketch of the Jersey Devil loomed against green brocade wallpaper. The pale winged chimera flailed its dragon tail and perched on two cloven hooves. Other baroque frames bore paintings of frightening images: skulls full of nails, portrayals of cannibalism and medieval sketches of demons convening at Walpurgis Night.

An old woman glided past, her sheer bell sleeves trailing behind her. She fetched a goblet and disappeared behind a beaded curtain. In the back of the store there was a group of fifteen or more witches. Nearly everyone there had long hair with ragged ends. The female witches were beautiful and plump like painted angels while the men had appearances more similar to trolls and scarecrows. On the counter there were dull silver platters decked with grapes, crackers and blocks of cheese.

Nathan noticed the tall elderly shopkeeper put a dollar into the register. Around his neck he wore beads woven into an intricate hemp design, and at the bottom hung a charm: the Seal of Solomon, that same image seen on the oak near where they'd found Alex's hair daisy.

Nathan pointed the man out to Tom. "That must be Harrison."

"How can we help you?" the storekeeper asked them, having approached after they stared and pointed so indiscreetly.

"I was just admiring your pendant," Nathan said. "What does it mean?"

"It's the Seal of Solomon. Are you young men considering joining us for circle tonight?"

"We're thinking about it."

"Great. We're going to get started in about fifteen minutes. Take a look around. Have a glass of wine."

Nathan recognized a short, chubby girl from his church holding a stick of incense like a wand. She waved it in infinity circles like she was pulling taffy. Her name was Danielle. They had been in Sunday school together and here she was, all grown up and practicing witchcraft. As their eyes met, she hid her face behind a curtain of mousey brown hair.

Nathan picked up a few books and pretended to weigh their pros and cons. As he did, he leaned in to Tom and whispered, "You ready to become a witch?"

"I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Tom went to the counter, pouring himself a glass of cheap wine. "'Scuse me," Tom said, approaching Harrison once more. "I'm just wondering what the Seal of Solomon means."

"It's a compelling image, isn't it? It means different things to different people. For us it is a symbol of our faith."

"But most neo-pagans wear the pentagram."

"Our coven chose the Seal of Solomon to communicate our pagan status without drawing attention to ourselves. Pentagrams are too mainstream nowadays."

"Did you by any chance see a girl lately named Alex?"

"The girl who went missing? No. Most of our members are older." Harrison shook his head. His silver gray hair began to glisten with sweat under the hot lights. "If I had seen that girl, I would have reported it to the police."

Nathan narrowed his eyes and stepped toward them. "Yeah, right. Well, what I want to know is what your little cult has been doing in Ghost Woods. I saw your seal carved into a tree right above Alex's hair barrette. You Wiccans act like you're all flowers and tambourines, but you're all drawn to the occult. You want to get a taste of evil now and then."

Harrison checked to make sure the others were still engaged in the party. "The people who meet in Ghost Woods are not like us, but they use the Seal of Solomon as well." Harrison leaned in very close, so close that Nathan could smell the stink of his halitosis. "They worship Baphomet."

"What is Baphomet?" Nathan asked.

"Baphomet is the god of fertility, worshipped by the Knights Templar after they returned from the crusades."

"Who are these people?"

"A small group. They take a more shamanistic approach to witchcraft."

"You must know their names, or at least their faces," Tom said.

"The woman who runs it goes by Hypatia, but it's not her real name. I admit, I went to one of their gatherings a few years ago, but I didn't like what I saw. They performed an animal sacrifice. If you want to find them, they celebrate every Sabbat in those woods. Litha is next week."

"Just one more question," said Tom. "Who is the Night Man?"

"The Night Man?" Harrison looked over his shoulder. "That's just an urban legend, a figure they say haunts the beaches in Asbury Park."

"Nobody goes by that name?"

"Well... there's this dealer. White kid. I think his name's Jake or Jacob."

Nathan shook his head despairingly.

"Thanks for your help," said Tom.

They left the store and hurried along down the boardwalk. Staring at the sidewalk beneath his feet, Nathan groaned in frustration, rabbling off a chain of curses. The solution to finding Alex was growing more elusive, taking them deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole that might or might not lead where they needed to go.

"We got a lead," Tom said.

Nathan laughed softly in a tone dripping with irony. "I'm scared what I might do to him."

"To who? Jacob?"

"I'll kill him if anything's happened to her."

"Nate. I'm not gonna lie here. You're freaking the fuck out. I think we need to tell my dad what we know and let the police handle this."

"I'm perfectly capable."

"You don't need to get involved. Look. If the real police find out that this guy already talked to us, they're gonna figure out who we are pretty quick and then I'm going back to those interview rooms, if my dad doesn't kill me first. And even if we do figure out who is behind all this, what do we do then?"

"You don't have to do anything."

"What are you saying?" Nathan didn't answer him. Tom scoffed and started off down the boardwalk. "What was I thinking following a shell-shocked vet into Hell?"

"Watch it."

"No!" Tom whipped back around and threw his arms up. "You watch it with the homicidal ideation. Alex wouldn't want that."

"She doesn't want anything anymore." Nathan propelled himself forward on his cane and turned the corner. This conversation had no purpose, and time was running out.

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Music: Muse "Thought Contagion"

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