Divine Evil by Nora Roberts Page B

wrapped in newspaper. “I hit a flea market on the way to the mall. It was great.” She held up a slightly battered percolator. “It might even work.”
    “I'll take the Pepsi,” he decided and helped himself.
    “Just as well, I think I forgot to buy coffee. I got plates, though. This terrific old Fiestaware. And I got these great jelly glasses with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on them.” She tossed back her hair, pushed up her sleeves, and smiled at him. “So, how was your day?”
    “Cecil Fogarty ran his Plymouth into Mrs. Negley's oak tree.”
    “Pretty exciting.”
    “She thought so.” He passed her the bottle of Pepsi. “So, you're going to set up shop in the garage.”
    “Um-hmm.” She took a long sip and handed it back to him.
    “Does that mean you're settling in, Slim?”
    “That means I'm working while I'm here.” She chose a brownie for herself, then scooted up to sit on the counter by the sink. The light of the fading sun glowed in her hair. “Can I ask you something I was too polite to ask you last night?”
    “All right.”
    “Why did you come back?”
    “I wanted a change,” he said simply, and not completely truthfully.
    “As I remember you couldn't wait to see the last of this place.”
    He had gone fast, not looking back, with two hundred and twenty-seven dollars in his pocket and all kinds of needs boiling in his blood. There had been freedom in that. “I was eighteen. Why are you back?”
    She frowned, nibbling on the brownie. “Maybe I'd had enough change. I've been thinking a lot about this place lately. This house, the town, the people. So here I am.” Abruptly she smiled and changed the mood. “I had an incredible crush on you when I was fourteen.”
    He grinned back at her. “I know.”
    “Bull.” She snatched the Pepsi from him. When he continued to grin, her eyes narrowed. “Blair told you. That weasely creep.”
    “He didn't have to.” Surprising them both, he stepped forward and laid his hands beside her hips on the counter. Her head was above his so that his eyes were level with her mouth. “You used to watch me-and waste a lot of energy pretending like you weren't watching me. Whenever I'd talk to you, you'd blush. I thought it was real cute.”
    Cautious, she studied him as she tipped the bottle back and drank. She resisted the urge to squirm. She wasn't fourteen anymore. “At that age, girls think hoods are exciting. Then they grow up.”
    “I've still got a motorcycle.”
    She had to smile. “I'll bet you do.”
    “Why don't I take you for a ride on Sunday?”
    She considered, polished off the brownie. “Why don't you?”

Chapter 5
    T HE COVEN OF THIRTEEN met at moonrise. Thunder grunted in the distance. In twos and threes they stood, chatting, gossiping, smoking tobacco or marijuana as the ceremonial candles were lit. Black wax softened and pooled. In the pit the fire caught and crackled and began to climb, digging greedy fingers into the dry wood. Hoods shadowed unmasked faces.
    The bell was rung. Instantly voices were hushed, cigarettes extinguished. The circle was formed.
    In the center the high priest stood, clad in his robe and his goat mask. Though they knew who he was, he never revealed his face during a rite. No one had the nerve to demand it.
    He had brought them three whores, knowing they required the release of sex to remain faithful-and silent. But that feasting would wait.
    It was a time of baptism and beginnings. Tonight, two members who had proven themselves worthy would be given the mark of Satan. To brand them and bind them.
    He began, lifting his arms high for the first invocation.The wind carried his call, and the power rushed into him like hot breath. The bell, the fire, the chant. The altar was ripe and lush and naked.
    “Our Lord, our Master is the One. He is the All. We bring our brothers to Him so that they might be joined. We have taken His name into ourselves and so live as the beasts, rejoicing in the flesh. Behold the gods of