Excerpt: spirit

1.
Misty mountain morning. The air hung full of dew like an ethereal veil that twisted through the trees and shrubs. Phantom forms, wrested from small drifts of fog danced on the zephyr wind that blew in from the ocean a kilometre east and two hundred metres below. Further off eastward, at the horizons edge where the dark ocean tumbled into the nothingness of another hemisphere, the coming dawn spread a thin arc of pink and gold, promising a fine day in a few hours. More mist rose in lazy folds from the forest floor, bringing with it the scent of eucalyptus, a faint lemon scent as well as the smell of the earth and a touch of decay.
Above it all, a solitary nightbird - grey against the night sky – rode the swell of the wind high above the ground. It drifted across the thermals and the gusts of wind, searching for food, for a place to sleep. It allowed it’s path to glide to the edge of the escarpment, where the winds moods were more abrupt and changeable. The nightbird followed the crags and falls of the escarpment north, to a small clearing surrounded on all sides by tall trees. It found a thermal that allowed it to circle the clearing and look down upon the actions of Man below.
In the clearing, four people dressed in loose red robes sat facing each other. Behind each of them a smouldering pot sent ribbons of scented smoke skyward. Faint light glowed from each of the smoking pots. In the centre of the group a small fire danced on coals glowing gold and red. One of the four, the one at the northern cardinal point if one were measuring, beat a slow rhythm on a small skin drum. The others swayed in time with the beat, muttering a droning guttural chant that more noise than words with meaning.
Close to the western edge of the clearing, overhung by branches from the trees, covered from sight by the shadows, an ancient stone table, thrust up from the ground by some natural force thousands of years ago. Upon it - arms spread wide, eyes staring skyward, naked, bloodied, her body marked in sigils and arcane signs - a young girl, fifteen maybe sixteen lay. Silken ribbons were tied in bows around each of her wrists and ankles. Forest and bush flowers had been threaded through her long blonde hair and a lei draped around her neck and shoulders. But for the shallow rise and fall of her breast, she would have appeared dead.
The nightbird flew around and around, its primitive brain registering something was wrong, its primitive thoughts turning immediately to food. It was not above consuming carrion, the fresher the better. It swooped and whirled, slaloming between the thin pillars of smoke from the pots far below. The bird allowed itself to drop lower in the night air, its attention snapping between the people, the smoke, the girl and back. The lower it came, the more it avoided the smoke. Some instinctive warning made it seek clear air. Instinct wanted it to ride the winds away, its stomach told it to stay, for soon the feasting would be good.
The drummer stopped his drumming. The chanters fell silent as one. Aside from the gentlest of rustling from the wind in the trees, the night was silent. From beneath the trees, from the darkness that held sway there, a newcomer stepped forth. Unlike the others, she wore no cowl, and her robe was the colour of sunbleached bone. In the darkness, her robe glowed. It was not as flowing as those worn by the others. It seemed thinner, and clung to her curves like a well cut dress. Her face, long and thin, pale as the distant moon, impassive, framed by hair as black as the night itself. She walked from the shadows barefoot, silent, as though she barely touched the earth and grass.
The four on the ground turned to face her. She stopped at the stone table, placed her hand on the girl’s brow.
“ So beautiful.”
Her voice was a hoarse whisper. In the right bar, after the appropriate amount of alcohol had been consumed, many men would find that voice sexy and alluring. Here it was cold, almost mechanical, barely heard above the gentle sigh of the breeze through the trees.
“ Hunter.”
Another shadow peeled from the darkness this one robed in night black. Rather than a cowl, It wore a Halloween mask in the form of a wolf. The person stayed covered by the shadows, as if the scant light cast by the dying fires and the hours away but still coming dawn might turn it to dust and scatter its body across the earth. It approached the woman and offered forth a crudely made clay bowl, shaped to resemble a skull.
The woman took the bowl, took her hand from the girl’s brow and faced those kneeling on the ground. Their faces were lost in the darkness of their cowls.
“ Once again it has come to pass.”
Those before her repeated the words, monotone. The woman stepped close to the first of the kneeling. She handed the bowl to waiting hands.
“ Drink. It is the blood and the seed. A gift from the Father.”
The first person took the bowl, brought it up to the darkness that was its face and sipped from it. The bowl was handed to the next, and the next, to the last, who rose silently and handed it back to the white robed woman before returning to its place.
“ The Father has given to you, and now we will give to the Father.”
She turned and walked slowly, gracefully back to the girl on the stone table.
“ Is she clean?”
The masked person nodded.
“ Cleansed by those who meet here, so that she may be presented to the Father.”
The white robed woman nodded.
“ Then let us begin.”
Up on high, though much lower than it had been before, the nightbird contemplated landing somewhere to wait out the happenings below. Its growing hunger overrode the signals of ‘run away’ its brain was sending through its body. But still, some primal fear kept it on the wing, a heartbeat away from flight should something happen. It dodged the smoke pillars, thicker now despite the increasing breeze. The bird continued to circle.
The white robed woman stepped out of the shadows and raised her arms to the sky, arching her back and reaching for the stars, her hands still holding the now empty bowl.
“ Dear Father, accept this soul, clean and pure, our gift to you.”
She let the bowl go, allowing it to fall to the ground before her. It hit the short grass with a dull thud and rolled between her naked feet. Still looking upward, she slowly lowered her reaching arms until they touched her throat. Her fingers worked their way past the material of her robe, fumbled then caught the chain hidden beneath. Slowly she raised the chain until a large curved knife hung before her, its tip barely millimetres from her exposed throat.
The drummer began a new beat. Soft and slow at first, growing faster as the woman in white worked her fingers to the knife’s hilt. Her long white fingers wrapped around the leather and bone, a reverse two handed grip. The girl on the table started to breath in time with the beat of the drum, her respirations growing faster as the cadence of the drum quickened. The woman in white tilted the tip of the blade away from her own throat, took three steps forward and thrust the knife down, shoving down with all her weight, the muscles in her neck standing proud. The knife punched into the girl’s chest between her breasts. The drummer punched a final beat as the four smoke pots burst into flame, sending roiling coils of smoke tumbling into the air. The nightbird swerved on the wind, dodging one, then two, but flying right into the third column of smoke. It screeched as its feathers exploded into flame, its flaming body arcing down, over the escarpment to the rocks below. The girl’s eyes snapped open wide, her body tensed, her back arched and then relaxed. She uttered a faint sigh that was carried away by the growing wind.
The white robed woman straightened, her hands still wrapped tightly around the knife. She closed her eyes and wrenched the knife upward, pulling it from the young girl’s body. Having ripped through the heart, very little blood flowed from the open wound. The drummer started tapping out a new rhythm, but now there was no chanting. The white robed woman turned the knife in her hands. She licked the blade clean of the little blood clinking to it and carefully placed it back under her robe. The masked person came close, barely stepping from the shadows and took her arm.
She turned to the four gathered on the ground of the clearing. The four smoke pots died back to smouldering, the smoke growing thinner as the wind grew.
“ Take her. Make her beautiful again.”
The masked Hunter led the woman back to the shadows. The four kneeling rose soundlessly to their feet and approached the stone table, closing on the body of the young girl.

2.
I’m sorry, but that’s why we have rules. We close the circle at 1:30. Really. If let you in then i have to let everyone in. I can’t make an exception. Besides, I have seven here now.”
Ann-Marie listened for a moment.
“ I’m sorry. If I didn’t have a time set then I’d have everyone coming and going as they pleased. It would be too disruptive. But please, come Tuesday. At 2. Of course. Thanks. Bye.”
She placed the phone back in its cradle, closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. If only they knew how much of her energy they took from her with the begging and the pleading. Ann-Marie didn’t blame them though. There were so many people in the world looking for answers, attracted to those who lived in the Light. But with some it became an obsession, and that was dangerous. Obsession could lead to far worse things.
Ahh, she thought as she returned to the lounge. Get those thoughts away from here. What darkness you put out there comes back to haunt you one day.
Instead, she thought good thoughts, sent love and Light to the caller and returned to her group. Just before entering the room, she ran back and took a small hand-lettered sign from the phone table drawer that said “CIRCLE CLOSED”. She quickly opened the door and hung it on the small hook between the panels of glass, then closed and locked the door. Though uncommon, some of those more desperate to be part of the group would enter uninvited and unannounced.
Ann-Marie ran back to the lounge, slowed to a sedate walk as she entered. Her six guests were all seated on cushions on the floor, all in more or less a lotus position, their fingers in a meditation mhudra, hands on knees upturned with thumb and middle fingers gently touching. Ann-Marie lowered herself into her wicker papas an chair and quickly relaxed, began her deep breathing and closed her eyes.
“ All good?”
Jen. To her left. The question was whispered but in the quiet, may well have been whispered directly in Ann-Marie’s ear.
“ All good,” she whispered back.
“ Okay. Let’s get our breathing under control. A couple of you are huffing and puffing. In through the nose two three four five, out through the mouth two three four five. In through the nose ...”
She repeated the count until they all breathed in and out in perfect time with each other. Ann-Marie felt her own level of calmness rise a level higher, her body feeling lighter and more relaxed. In the background, the faint trickle that came from her rose quartz meditation fountain sounded like a distant waterfall. The songbirds and parakeets in the trees across the road sounded brighter and more wild.
The energy in the room shifted. It swirled around the group, passing in with their inhalations, out with their exhales. Each person’s energy fed the next person, and ultimately the group. This was one reason why Ann-Marie liked to keep this group as it was. They had found a rhythm together. They were in sync with each other. It was difficult to gather a group like this, and much harder to keep them together. As they grew, people of this level usually sought out their own groups. But not this time. They were together for a reason.
The force of the energy grew between them. Ann-Marie imagined ... no, she saw bands of blue energy wrapping around each person here, caressing them lovingly as it passed around, over and through them. The light started to pulse blue and a solid beam of light slowly dropped down through the ceiling to surround them.
“ We are all beings of Light, “ she began. “ Let’s begin our protection.”
There was a faint shuffling as someone adjusted their sitting position, Carl probably. He always found it hard to sit still. Speaking softly, but loud enough for all to hear, she began the protection charm.
“ We call upon the Spirits of the Light to stand guard at the doorway of our souls and protect us from the forces of Evil. We commit ourselves to the Light.”
All six breathed the last sentence together. There was another shift in the room’s energy and Ann-Marie knew they were ready. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked across her group, her friends. They were all totally at peace, awake but somewhere so far off from this world they may as well have been asleep. Blood pressures and respiration rates would be halved, if not less. They were ready.
Ann-Marie closed her eyes and began to guide the meditation.
“ Great Spirits, wise Spirits, we ask for your counsel. We ask for your guidance. Should it please you, we ask that you join us for a while, to share with us.”
Ann-Marie allowed herself to relax further. She took a deep breath, and heard the other do the same, perfectly in sync with each other. They were – each of them – Lightworkers in their own right. They just didn’t know it yet. She drifted off with the energy, allowing it to take her to places she would one day dream about perhaps, or if the dreams were true, visit when she finally moved on.
“ Greetings, Dear ones.”
The voice coming from Margaret’s mouth was anything but Margaret’s. Hers was a quiet, squeaky sort of voice, the voice of someone who wouldn’t always speak their truth after twenty three years of having someone else’s truth forced upon her. This Voice was deeper, held authority. It continued.
“ We thank you for inviting us, and how good it is to be with you today. We are ...”
Another voice broke in, a new voice, deep and resonating. Ann-Marie felt the energy in the room shift to another higher level, but the voice sounded muffled to her, as though listening to a conversation from behind a wall.
“ You are but Ego. Though it comes from the Light, it is but the Higher Self that speaks. Forgive me.”
The voice was fading. In Ann-Marie’s mind she saw a bright Light bloom. A vision came to her. A meadow, a picture perfect meadow with wildflowers in bloom, butterflies dancing between them. Bees buzzed and birds sang. A path of neat little cobblestones led to a pretty stone bridge over a crystal clear stream where small fish swam n schools, jumping from the water in silvery sprays of light. Ann-Marie followed the path along past a small friendly forest, if a forest could be called friendly. She half expected gnomes, or dwarves to come out singing. And there was a cottage. If Hansel and Gretel answered, she’d know that this was a dream, and she’d fallen asleep during the meditation. Wouldn’t the gang have a laugh at that. Teach fallin’ asleep in the job. Heh heh.
The cottage looked pretty, sitting there with trees and flowers all around. A cute little bunny hopped up on a log and watched her slowly walk by. It seemed to wave at her and she wondered if she knew it, either in this or a past life. Ann-Marie walked up to the cottage. There was the faintest smell of biscuits coming from within. She knocked politely on the rough wood of the door.
“ Hello?”
The door swung open noiselessly. A bright light flowed like water, surrounding her, warming her, though not uncomfortably. A voice kindly, laughing almost, rumbley with age but still childlike spoke to her.
“ Come in, my child, “ it said.

3.
“ Greetings Lightworkers, and welcome. Long have we waited for this time, when you would match our vibration, and we could speak”
Six pairs of eyes opened as the voice spoke. All looked to Ann-Marie, who sat in her chair, lotus position, her eyes closed. As she spoke, her face contorted. The corners of her mouth twisted as though trying to smile a carnival smile while she spoke. Each of the group looked to the others then back to Ann-Marie. To all intents and purposes, she had not changed one little bit. She was still five foot four, still had her dirty blond hair tied in a pony tail that hung halfway down her back.
“ Budge ... ?”
Carl started to speak, but a sharp glance from Jen stopped him cold. He nodded his tattooed head, and stayed quiet. He was a big man, physically and in personality., an ex- bikie gang member who wondered one day what the hell he was doing, and could there be something more to life than drinking, drugging and busting heads. He kept his bike though. There were some things a man will never part with.
“ Please excuse our sudden entrance. We have been waiting so long, and as the time has finally come to pass, we could wait no longer. And ...”
Ann-Marie’s face contorted in what might possibly have been a cheeky grin, but looked more like a baring of teeth.
“ ... we do like to make an entrance.”
The voice was an odd amalgam of accents. A touch of Irish, some Middle Eastern influence, some American nasal twang and British stiff upper lip. Different words seemed to have different accents attached, as though there were a group speaking, one voice per word being passed through Ann-Marie’s vocal chords.
“ Do not fear us, for that is not what we seek. Unlike those elemental forms, those that dwell on the second dimension, who derive their power from the fear they generate in your hearts, we come with Love and Light, to help you through this transition.”
Ann-Marie’s face contorted again. Someone walking in from the street would have assumed she was in great pain.
“ We have to come a place, yes a time of great transition. Lightworkers such as you will be assisting other to ascend from this third dimension, into the fourth, and very quickly into the fifth. And this ...”
Ann-Marie held up one finger.
“ ... this is a joyous time for us, for we have watched you all grow, as all parents watch their children grow, take their first steps, and then run. Any you are now running, running to new adventures that 0 at the moment – you cannot dream of, though some of you, yes you, some of you have dreamed of them, dismissed them as fantasy. But they were not. The beauty you saw in those dreams is as real as your physical bodies there.”
Ann-Marie chuckled in that deeper, warm voice of mixed with accents and tones. It was a grandfatherly laugh, comfortable.
“ Know you, that this time has been coming for many, many of your years. For a long time you have enjoyed living fully in the Light. Oh yes...”
Again the finger, pointing at each of them.
“ ... oh yes, there have been times of great despair, when many have thought the darkness had infinite control, but always the Light returned triumphant. Because ...”
The finger indicated each of the gathered again, holding point for a good moment on each person.
“ ... of each ... and every ... one of you, and many many of those just like you.”
Nobody moved when the voice fell silent. Each of them watched to see if Ann-Marie was going to speak, or this Voice, this Spirit, this bringer of wisdom, Bringer of the New Dawn.
“ Know this, for this is the what and the why. You will have questions, and soon we may answer them. For now, know that for the past 26000 years you have lived in the Light. But each pass through that infinite wonder we know as the Photon Belt brings us to a new beginning. There must be a choice. Both the Darkness and the Light must use their influence to guide your world, your very universe and dimension to a new beginning. The Light will help everyone to ascend to the next dimension, to take the next evolutionary step. The Darkness ...”
Ann-Marie’s eyes opened, her normally grey eyes now black, with specks of light like a star field scattered through them.
“ The darkness would hold you here, where you are at the mercies of the Elementals, who feed off your emotions, the fear they generate in your hearts. 26000 years of struggle. Of pain. This is the choice you make on behalf of those not yet able to. Follow the Light, or fall into the Darkness.”
Ann-Marie’s eyes closed again, and the voice fell silent. Ann-Marie sighed, a sigh so deep it sounded like a thousand beings releasing pent up energy. She fell back slightly into her chair. Those on the cushions before her leaned forward, sure that the channelling was over, waiting for Ann-Marie to return to them.
Not just yet. The Voice was quieter now, little more than a whisper, but the power of the words was as strong as though they had been shouted from the rooftops.
“ There will be a battle, oh yes. Many will fall. Some will change. It is all over the universe, this happening.”
Again that chuckle.
“ No no. You are not alone. Never alone.”
Carl leaned further forward, aware his private thoughts had quietly been made public.
“ How the hell did he ... it ...?”
“ This happens everywhere. This whole dimension will transition to the fourth, or it will stay. It comes down to you, the choices you make, and the challenges you will face. There are Dark times ahead, but should you succeed, you will again Live in the Light, but this time, forever.”
The Voice fell quiet. No-one seated spoke. They sat with their own thoughts, trying to analyse the information passed to them. The Voice returned again, now sounding weary.
“ And now we must go. This one tires. There is so much more to say, but we will leave you here with these thoughts. You are ... loved. Believe this, even if you believe nothing else. Believe this truth. We will always be close to you, because you have become our children. This event has been in the making for 26000 years, and you have chosen o be here at this time to experience it. Peace be with you. Love and Light in abundance. We will, we promise, speak again.”
Ann-Marie fell silent. Her head bowed down. Beads of perspiration dripped from her brow onto her skirt. As those on the cushions watched, her fingers moved through a complex set of mhudras before her hands fell limp to her knees. She pitched forward - face first - toward the floor. Both Carl and Jen reacted fastest, pushing themselves forward from their seated positions to catch her limp body before she hit the hardwood floor. The rest of the group came alive, getting up and helping bring Ann-Marie gently to the floor. Margaret - a home care nurse – checked her pulse and her breathing.
“ Her breathing is down, so’s her heartbeat. Just let me look ...”
Margaret rolled back one of Ann-Marie’s eyelids. The familiar grey eye, dull and unfocussed rather than alive and bright.
“ This isn’t good.”
As one, they all asked the question.
“ What?”
Margaret moved between Carl and Jen, getting in as close to Ann-Marie as possible.
“ I think she’s stroking out.”
The rest watched as Margaret again checked Ann-Marie’s pulse and breathing.
“ No. She’s coming good. Just wait.”
Ann-Marie groaned - a deep, from the diaphragm groan that sounded full of pain – and opened her eyes.
“ What ...?”
Her voice was hoarse, but definitely Ann-Marie.
“ What are you all looking at?”

4.
The group all sat clustered by Ann-Marie’s feet, all but Jen who was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touched on a pot of chamomile tea. Ann-Marie sat propped up by pillows in her papas an. She was still a little disoriented from her experience, her left hand pressed softly to her temple.
“ I’m okay. Please, just tell me what happened.”
“ What do you remember?” Carl asked, his hand on the side of the chair. He knelt on a small stack of cushions. “ What’s the last thing you remember.”
Jen came in, balancing four empty cups in a stack in one hand and the ceramic teapot in the other. Martin the Plumber took the teapot while Margaret helped lay out the cups.
“ Maybe this should wait?” said Jen as she poured.
Ann-Marie shook her head carefully, as though afraid it was going to separate from her neck and roll out the door.
“ No. Let’s talk about it. To be – thanks, Jen...”
Ann-Marie took the cup from Jen and sat it on the small side table.
“ ...to be honest, we need to talk about it. I don’t remember much. I was starting to guide the meditation. I remember the invocation. Then I was off on my own.”
Ann-Marie described the meadow, the path, the bridge and the cottage. She told the group of the Light through the door and how she’d faded out as soon as she’d entered the cottage.
“ It was so warm, so comfortable, like I’d been there before and I felt so safe.”
“ Did you hear anything?” Alex, the group intellectual asked. He was sitting furthest back, a trait Ann-Marie had gently tried to make go away. To a certain extent she’d succeeded, at least with their group
“ Not to the extent that you did. I was spoken too, but to be honest, I don’t really know if I heard something there or if it was just in my mind.”
“ It was incredible,” said Margaret.
“ Frightening,” said Tina.
“ Awesome,” said Carl.
“ I agree with Tina,” said Jen. “ But I wasn’t frightened as much as concerned.”
She sat to the right of Ann-Marie, far enough to give her friend space but close enough to touch and reassure if Ann-Marie needed it.
“ Like, can it be true? Are we headed for some sort of confrontation with the greater evil?”
Ann-Marie sipped her tea, cupping the mug in both hands as though she were cold.
“ I can’t say, Jen. Maybe. I mean, what did you feel when it was happening? Really feel? If it was an astral or elemental attack - which I doubt but won’t discount just yet – there would be signs. A scratchy throat, cold, electrical sort of interference. Anyone?”
Each of them shook their head.
“ No way,” Carl said, “ No way this was some low level ghost thing.”
“ So, we’re all intelligent, sensitive people here. What do we think about it all. We are in the company of a seriously powerful spiritual energy and no-one felt a thing?”
“ I’m no expert. Shit, I barely hang in there with some of the conversations that go on here.”
Carl was speaking a little more quietly. It would surprise most people who saw him and instantly judged him by his looks. The shaved, tattooed head, the rings through the nose and eyebrows, his normal swagger scared the general population, as confident people often do, but below the bravura exterior was a gentle soul who would rather tend his bonsai garden than bust heads in the street. Not that he wouldn’t, but he’d prefer other things first.
“ This was no Spookworld king wannabe. There was real power here.”
Ann-Marie looked at Carl and arched an eyebrow.
“ So you felt something?”
Carl looked embarrassed.
“ Yeah. No. Maybe. I dunno. I felt the air get heavy, not unpleasantly, but there was a short time when the air was thicker, maybe a bit colder. But I felt safe, you know?”
He looked to Ann-Marie as though looking for validation.
“ I trusted the voice,” Tina said quietly from her spot near the wall, surrounded by brightly coloured cushions. “ It reminded me of my Dad.”
Alex nodded.
“ I sort of heard Brian Henderson, the newsreader. The voice was a little off, but if I was forced to pick the voice out of a line up, I’d say it was his.”
Jen nodded now, too.
“ It sounded vaguely like my grandfather. Not in a ‘jeez maybe possibly i dunno but i’ll say yes ‘ kind of way. It actually sounded just like him, the broken English and everything. But it was friendly, no ...”
“ No judgement,” said Margaret. “ There was love for everyone there.”
Ann-Marie looked at her group, impressed.
“ So, instead of feeling nothing, we all – you all – felt something?”
“ We felt safe.”
“ But how can we be sure that’s it’s real?”
Ann-Marie shrugged.
“ We trust our feelings. Something is happening. We know that. Look at the news, the papers, people in the street. How many people are looking for an answer? The questions are still the same as they have been for decades or longer, but everyone is looking for a new answer. Some are looking toward the New Age, some conventional religion. Some people have completely lost the plot. The question is ... why now?”
The group looked to each other. Ann-Marie answered the question for them.
“ Because they feel it, but they don’t understand it. We’re enlightened, at least to some degree. But we’re all human, so even those who live in the deepest caves have the ability to feel the changes, and wonder what’s going on. It’s up to us – we’ve spoken about it before – to show the way.”
Ann-Marie sagged a little in her chair. She fought to straighten up again, yawning deeply. Jen got got her feet and started collecting cups and mugs.
“ I think we should leave you alone for a while,” she said. “ It’s been a different day.”
“ It certainly has ...” Ann-Marie, said, yawning again.” ... been. And I missed the best bit.”
Jen started to shoo the others up to their feet. Grudgingly, they each got up and said their goodbyes and left, until only Jen was left. Ann-Marie was nodding off in the chair.
“ I think maybe you should be in bed. What do you think?”
Ann-Marie half smiled, her eyelids drooping.
“ I think you may be right.”
She struggled to get out of her cross legged position, but succeeded with Jen’s help. Holding Ann-Marie’s arm, Jen guided Ann-Marie out of the lounge, through the hall to the bedroom.
“ You’ve got to change that carpet one day.”
She lowered Ann-Marie to the bed, pushed her back and quickly swung her around until she was lying almost comfortably.
“ Gunna be okay?”
Ann-Marie nodded, more asleep already than awake.
“ I’m good.”
“ Call me if you need anything?”
“ Of course.”
Ann-Marie was asleep before Jen made it back to the lounge. Collecting the last of the cups, Jen carried them into the kitchen and sat them on top of the counter. She contemplated washing them, checked the time and decided not to. Finding her shoes near the door, she set the lock to engage after she shut the door and pulled it closed behind her.
From Ann-Marie’s room, a soft light began to glow.

5.
Ann-Marie slept like a log for eleven hours, awaking to the new morning light and the raucous sound of grass parrots arguing loudly in the trees across the road. Despite the deep sleep, she still felt tired and a little dizzy. She wandered to the kitchen, grabbed a jug of orange juice squeezed the day before from the fridge and poured herself a glass. It was cold and tart and woke her up a little, her eyes focussing and her balance steadying. She thought about breakfast, but not for too long. Something Jen was apt to say popped into her mind.
Can’t eat breakfast on an empty stomach.
She poured another glass of juice and wandered into the lounge, sitting in her papasan and crossing her legs into a lotus position. The remote for the TV was still in its little knitted hanger tied to the bamboo rail of the chair. Ann-Marie fished it out, pointed it at the window, because that worked better than pointing it at the TV itself, and switched the TV on. The screen brightened and those two annoying Morning Show hosts were discussing how snow could be kept cold and taken to the subtropics. She surfed channels until she saw an actual story being reported, something local.
Ann-Marie raised the volume a little as the newsreader threw to the on-the –spot reporter.
“ A morning runner found the body at approximately 5:45am. While an ID has been made, police are not yet releasing the name of the victim until relatives have been notified.”
The scene behind the reporter was one of action. Police officers walked about, studying the ground, occasionally bending to pick up something. A photographer snapped close-ups of anything pointed at. Small cards had been placed on the ground at points of interest. In the far background, an ambulance gurney was being wheeled toward a waiting ambulance. The vision wobbled a little as the cameraman refocussed on the white sheet covered form being transferred.
The on-the-spot reporter came back onscreen.
“ With me now is Sergeant Peter Farris of the North Coast Command. Sgt Farris, what can you tell us.”
The camera moved to her left, focussing on a senior police officer, who stared nervously at the camera.
“ We can confirm that a local girl has been found deceased. That’s all I can say now until the forensics team has finished and relatives are notified.”
“ Is there any truth to the rumour...”
The camera swung back to the reporter.
“ ... that it was some sort of ritual killing, possibly perpetrated by a cult in the area?”
The sergeant shook his head emphatically.
“ No, no. As yet, there is no evidence of that, and as for cults, there hasn’t been any form of cult activity in this area that has been observed.”
Back to the reporter.
“ What about those who live in the area known as Willengen Springs?”
Back to the Sergeant, who fingered his collar, the wiped a rill of sweat from his brow.
“ The residents of Willengen Springs are simply people who choose to live away from modern society. They are alternatives, like those in Bellingen, Nimbin and Wytalibah. They espouse no formal religious or spiritual ideals other than working with the earth and living peacefully. If that makes them a cult, then ...”
Off screen. The ambulance siren started up and the cameraman quickly swung the camera to catch a shot of it departing. When it was out of camera range, the cameraman panned the lens across the open area. Ann-Marie recognised the place now as Petersen’s Park, on the road out of town heading south. It was a popular rest spot for the few tourists brave enough to leave the highway and follow the rough road to the Harbour. It was also known as a popular spot for young teens wanting a more intimate place away from home where they could ... experiment. Across the road was the ocean, the rock filled beach and a small creek. Her parents would have probably called the spot something original like, say , Inspiration Point, where young couples in love could go watch the submarine races.
The camera swung back to the Sergeant, who was wiping his brow again. In the background, Ann-Marie saw a familiar face as Jen walked by, carrying a large silver case toward the area that have been taped off.
“ We are asking if anyone saw anything, anything at all near Petersen’s Park between 7:30pm last night and six this morning. Any bit of information could be vital. Thanks.”
The Sergeant touched the brim of his hat, turned and walked away quickly. The cameraman focussed again on the reporter, who stared solemnly back at the lens.
“ If you have any information, please call Crimestoppers at the number on your screen.”
She paused while the phone number flashed up on the screen, then signed off. The news anchor returned.
“ Kelly Foreman at Petersen Park. Please, if anyone has any information, please call the police.”
The studio changed cameras to signal the end of the piece. The news anchor swivelled in her seat to face the new camera, a smile now replacing the serious look she’d worn only a moment before. Behind her, the screen changed from the scene at the park to one of a dolphin in a pool.
“ After the break, Bumper and Chiller, our Oceanarium dolphins are proud parents again. Exclusive pictures of the new arrival, followed by sports and the six day forecast. Back soon.
The screen faded to black. An advertisement for feminine hygiene came on, some random model carrying a stuffed marsupial about. Ann-Marie assumed there was some relevance, but switched the channel back to the Morning Show.
Poor girl, she thought. Why does this happen?
One of the reasons she’d moved to this little beachside town after years in the city was because it was so behind. The Harbour had seemed like Paradise Lost – or at least somewhat forgotten - when she’d first stumbled along the barely holding together goat track that passed for the main road into the town. There was a community spirit still alive here that was missing from larger, more go-ahead towns up and down the coast. Because of the poor signage, the bad road and the incessant need to be at the theme parks faster, few tourists ventured off the highway and visited. Those that did were always amazed that such a place could still exist.
Divers knew about the place. It was quietly famous for the reefs and wrecks that had fallen to them just to the north, but the divers were a closed mouth lot. The influx of tourists had made some of the dive sites along the coast almost standing room only, so real treasures were shared rarely. Fisherman also found the harbour, sheltering from bad seas or to fill up with fuel. They hardly encountered the town though, preferring to spend their time at the Pier Hotel, only a very short walk from the Marina.
The town was quiet. If it changed in any way, Ann-Marie guessed that many of the locals would leave. Not that there weren’t moments of excitement about the place. A couple of years back had been the drug runners who had also found the quiet of the area alluring. They’d been dropping bags of illegal narcotic into the ocean with a small radio transmitter attached. A shore team used surfboards to gather in the bags, ostensibly “cleaning up the ocean and removing rubbish dumped by cruise ships”. A local teenager had been killed, and a hermit up in the hills past the old quarry had been seriously wounded, but thanks to the efforts of some other local teens, the smugglers had been caught and prosecuted. The Harbour had actually made it onto the front page of the major city newspapers over that, and the locals braced for an onslaught of gawkers and sightseers, that thankfully never arrived.
A murder was something new, and would bring more notice upon the town, again in a negative vein. Ann-Marie watched the news infrequently, but enough to know that the cities were slowly becoming bad places to live. Crime in all its forms was rampant, and by all accounts growing worse. The great Sea-Change of the last few years had many people fleeing the cities, looking for a quieter life in the Bush. The downside was that many of the troublemakers followed, turning once quiet towns into smaller versions of what they had left behind.
Ann-Marie felt her tummy rumble. Food, it said. Now! And fair enough, she thought. She’d missed her evening meal during the excitement, and her medication. The old blood sugar was playing havoc and needed appeasing, and orange juice wasn’t going to fit the bill. She unfolded herself from the papasan, and went back to the kitchen. She carved two thick slices from her homemade bread and pushed them into the toaster, raided the fridge for spread and Vegemite, and quietly hoped her doctor wasn’t going to walk in and see her morning food choices. Her last visit had consisted of a fifteen minute lecture on the benefits of cutting down on salt and fat.
The toaster popped, the rough slices of bread slightly burned, just the way she liked them. Ann-Marie was spreading the Vegemite when the doorbell rang.
“ Bugger,” she mumbled to herself as she picked up a slice of toast for the trip to the door.
Who’s this, at this hour? she thought.
She munched her toast, wiping a spill of melted spread from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. The shoved the last bite into her mouth as she reached out the door. Outside, through the glass panels of the door, Ann-Marie saw two figures standing on her verandah. As her hand touched the cool ceramic of the door handle, she knew that her visitors were the police, and one of them was Jen.
The person closest to the door raised a hand to knock again, that old thud thud thud police knock they went to Goulburn for six months to learn. Ann-Marie opened the door a half second before the knockers knuckles rapped the timber of the doorframe. Sure enough, Constable Jennifer Kearny stood on the verandah, behind the Sergeant she had seen on the TV less than thirty minutes before.
The Sergeant pulled his hand back fast. He looked through the screen, scrutinising Ann-Marie’s features.
“ Ann-Marie Porter?”
It was more statement than question, but Ann-Marie nodded.
“ Yes.”
“ May we come in?”
Behind the Sergeant, Jen was nodding emphatically. Ann-Marie eyed the Sergeant suspiciously, anticipating what was coming.
“ Okay. Shoes outside please.”
Jen was already undoing the laces of her boots. The Sergeant looked down, was about to argue, then bent and undid the calf length boots and slipped them off. He had a hole in his sock, the littlest piggy poking through. He blushed slightly as Ann-Marie let a giggle slip through. She unlocked the screen and pushed it open. The Sergeant stepped through, taking off his hat and holding the door open for Jen. Ann-Marie led the way to the lounge. Jen found herself a spot on the floor on top of a mound of cushions. The Sergeant stood until Ann-Marie motioned toward the small two-seater across from the papas an. The Sergeant sat down, his hat clasped in his hands.
“ Can I offer you coffee?” she asked the Sergeant, then looked to Jen. “ Tea?”
Jen raised her hand to accept the offer but lowered it quickly when the Sergeant declined.
“ Thank you, no. This is an official visit, and we’re behind as it is.”
“ Oh-kay.”
Ann-Marie dropped into the papasan, arranged the cushions until she was comfortable.
“ So what can I do for you?”
The Sergeant looked at his hat and he folded it in and out. He looked the same as he did on the TV, like he really didn’t want to be there. Ann-Marie waited until he felt comfortable enough to talk without being prompted.
“ No doubt you’ve heard or seen the news this morning?”
Ann-Marie nodded.
“ There’s a lot that hasn’t been released.”
“ I guessed that.”
The Sergeant cleared his throat.
“ I shouldn’t be passing any information on just yet, but i ... we have reason to believe that this may be some sort of ritual killing.”
Ann-Marie’s eyes widened.
“ I’m a suspect?” she asked. “ I have an alibi for my movements. I was here asleep, after a meeting with friends. Constable Kearny was one of them.”
The Sergeant looked up.
“ No. No, you’re not a suspect. Constable Kearney has already informed me of your movements, and of your ... interests.”
Ann-Marie shot a questioning glance at Jen.
“ My interests?”
The Sergeant managed to look sheepish and sceptical at the same time. It was not a good look for him.He coughed and looked away, the tinge of red appearing in his cheeks again.
“ Is there something I can do for you then?”
The Sergeant looked back to Ann-Marie.
“ Constable Kearney tells me you have an interest in the occult, that you have studied various forms of spirituality.”
Again, Ann-Marie nodded.
“ I’ve studied many forms of spirituality, and many branches of what is called the Occult. We could debate whether or not I’m considered an expert.”
“ As far as I’m concerned, you’re about as expert as we have here.”
The Sergeant looked to his hands and his hat. Ann-Marie stared at him, her eyes squinted as she tried to read his aura. The couch was where it was in her house because of the pale wall behind it. It was her study area,. The background gave Ann-Marie a neutral background to focus on. Natural light through the sliding balcony doors flowed past the couch area, bathing it in a soft golden glow, bringing out the auras in stark relief. The Sergeant’s personal aura shone in that light.
He shifted nervously as he caught Ann-Marie staring at him. He waited for her to speak, as she allowed her consciousness to slip a little, much like looking at one of the stereogram pictures popular years before. She allowed her gaze to slip slightly out of focus, brought it slowly back until the Sergeants aura grew around him like a corona. Shards of shimmering blue light, the colour of faith an honour shone about him, interspersed with emerald green and gold light. But there were places – unevenly spaced and at the moment few – where patches of dull grey were taking over the Sergeants astral self, especially around the man’s eyes and shoulders. Ann-Marie interpreted this as an inability, or a refusal, to believe what his eyes showed him, and a tendency to carry the weight of the world martyr-like. These were personal choices. Only the Sergeant could change those attitudes and repair his aura.
The Sergeant stopped waiting for Ann-Marie to speak and had begun himself. Ann-Marie had to quickly shake herself back to catch up.
“ Sorry,” she said. “ Off with the pixies for a sec.”
The Sergeant nodded, flicking a look to Jen. It wasn’t an approving look.
“ I was saying that we know you profess to being clairvoyant.”
“ Clairaudient and –sentient, actually.”
“ There’s a difference?”
“ I hear things, feel things. I can feel that you don’t believe in what i do. That was obvious just by looking at you. But you have had some experience with mediums before.”
The Sergeant shifted uncomfortably, but wouldn’t answer Ann-Marie’s charges. Ann-Marie continued.
“ I rely on my spirit guides. They can access parts of your being that you didn’t even know existed. I could call upon the Akashic records of your past lives, your possible futures. I can read your aura – what I was just doing then when I faded out – to read your health, your state of mind, whether or not you’re telling the truth.”
“ Do you know anything about Satanists or witchcraft?”
Ann-Marie nodded.
“ A little Mostly Wicca –earth magic, feminine based, “ she added when the Sergeant looked puzzled.
“ In the old days, Wicca was used by the female leaders of villages to aid the growing of crops, calling on the power of the EarthMother to care for and assist the farmers. Sometimes it involved sacrifice, but that was more a male oriented thing.”
The Sergeant leaned forward.
“ Sacrifice?”
“ Nut’s and berries, a share of the harvest. Other things like leaves and shells were offered to the elemental beings to ask for their assistance.”
“ Elemental beings?”
“ Earth spirits, the Elements.”
“ Fire, water, air, earth,” added Jen.
The Sergeant looked between Ann-Marie and Jen.
“ And you believe in all this?”
“ It’s a part of a much, much bigger philosophy. And it’s personal. Not like mainstream religion where you have to follow strict rules and regulations that hinder and hold back your spiritual creativity.”
“ Ms Porter, “ the Sergeant said, “ I have no truck with religion. I’ve seen too many people use it for a crutch. When something goes great, they did well. If something goes bad, it’s God’s will. It gives people who are unable to accept their lives someone or something to blame. In what way are you different?”
“ Choice,” said Jen, a touch of irritation in her voice.
“ Absolutely, “ said Ann-Marie. “ We allow you to have a choice in how you believe. We accept that we make the mistakes, but that we are also allowed to make the mistakes. That’s the main difference. We accept. We don’t blame.”
“ Or judge,” Jen said quietly”
“ So you don’t believe,” said Ann-Marie. “ And yet, you want to ask me something.”
Ann-Marie’s eyes followed the Sergeant’s face as he stood. It was lucky that it wasn’t too hot, and that the fan was off. The Sergeant was tall, and there was a good chance his hair might have been cut a bit closer had the fan been on.
Just come out and ask, she thought.
“ There are some artifacts at the site, evidence that leads me to believe we may in fact have a cult in the area and this young woman was murdered, perhaps as a sacrifice.”
The Sergeant looked away. Ann-Marie finished the unasked question for him.
“ Would you like me to go to the park and see if there’s anything I can see that might help you?”
The Sergeant sighed and looked up, grateful for not having to ask something he was clearly uncomfortable with.
“ Only if you wish. We’ll have to wait until the news crew has gone, but I have my people holding everything but the body right where it is until I return. We can go, you take a look, and we can be back in less than half an hour.”
Ann-Marie nodded.
“ I don’t know if there’s anything i can do to help, but let’s go.”

6.
“ Ann-Marie, pick up if you’re there.”
The answering machine whirred and beeped softly.
“ Ann-Marie, it’s Alex. It’s not overly important, but I’ve been on the interwebs, just chatting, and there maybe something to all this. Please call me when you get in. Okay? Thanks.”
The answering machine beeped long and loud as the message ended. The red light flashed as the machine digested the call, storing it in the memory banks. The house was quiet again. Frank the cat from next door ambled in from the verandah, purring and slow-stepping, having had a nice nap in the sun on Ann-Marie’s hanging chair. The cat regarded Ann-Maries house as its second home and had almost free reign throughout. When they had first become friends, Ann-Marie had picked the cat up and looked deep into his eyes, telling him that cats were always welcome, but they were never ever to go into her bedroom. Whether or not the cat understood was debatable, but it never, ever went into the main bedroom, whether someone was there or not.
Frank jumped up on the couch and gave himself a little tongue bath. A noise outside startled him, and he stared toward the front door, ears back, suddenly wide awake and alert. There was a knock on the door, then another. The door handle rattled. Another knock, then footsteps clomping on the stairs and down. Frank kept his eyes locked on the door until it was quiet, jumped down off the couch and went back out to the verandah. He jumped elegantly onto the verandah railing and watched a man walk out the drive onto the street.
The man stopped and pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. A moment later and Ann-Marie’s phone rang again. At the fifth ring, the answering machine picked up.
“Miss Porter, my name is Eric Richardson. I’m in town researching psychic phenomena. I was given your name by a friend in Brisbane. I was wondering if you were free for a quick interview. I’m staying at the Commercial Hotel. If you could call me there I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
The answering machine beeped again as the man broke the connection. The red light flashed two. Frank watched the man put the phone back into his pocket and walk away toward town.

7.
The ride to the park in the back of the police cruiser was interesting. Some of the townies saw Ann-Marie sitting in the back, a couple stared open mouthed. Ann-Marie knew what a couple of them were thinking. She’d had to deal with their closed mindedness ever since she’d moved to the area. Rumours abounded when news leaked that she’d paid cash for her house. More rumours circulated when it was revealed how she made her money. And while she had slowly become accepted by the majority of the community, there were some she knew were never going to accept her, many of those people who saw Satan worshippers in the alternative multiple occupancies of Willengen Springs. It was those whose tongues would be wagging on the phones after they got after the initial shock of seeing Ann-Marie in the police car.
Ann-Marie felt intimidated, sitting on the cold grey vinyl of the seat, separated from Jen and the Sergeant by a heavy mesh and polycarbonate barrier. The locks in the back were controlled from the front, and automatically locked when the engine was turned on.
So this is what the criminals see, she thought, and how they’re seen.
The car was clean enough, though, better than what Ann-Marie expected. Then again, she accepted, she had no real experience to base any assumptions on. They were in an extremely quiet place of the world. It was entirely possible that no real criminal other than a town drunk or a naughty teenager had ever sat in the seat before her. She closed her eyes and laid her hands on the cold, grey vinyl. Immediately she smelt something, something not quite right. Faint, and probably to most people, unnoticeable, deeper – or maybe higher – than the usual senses. It was a ghost of a smell, a half tone higher in vibration than the third dimension.
“ There’s something about this car.”
Jen turned slightly in her seat to look at Ann-Marie in the back. The Sergeant looked into the rearview mirror as he drove.
“ Oh, yeah?”
“ Hmm.”
Ann-Marie forced herself to concentrate.
“ There’s something clinging to it. Something from a while ago.”
“ I don’t need a demonstration or anything.”
The Sergeant flicked another glance to the mirror. Ann-Marie opened her eyes and looked at the Sergeants reflection in the mirror.
“ What happened?”
We got the car second hand. City runs the miles up, we finish them off before they’re retired.”
Ann-Marie waited.
“ A man died in that seat,” the Sergeant said. “ Drunk, roiled for his wallet. Threw a garbage can through a restaurant window. He was picked up and being taken to the hospital before the cells and he chucked a hearty.”
Ann-Marie gaped.
“ Dead in about a minute. Like his heart just stopped. Spooked the city boys. They couldn’t wait to get rid of it, and we were happy to get a car that wasn’t totally stuffed and ready for the scrap yard.”
They fell silent for the rest of the ride. As they approached the park there was a crowd of cars parked hodge podge on both sides of the road. The Sergeant threaded his vehicle through the maze of pedestrians and parked cars until he could get no closer. Jen got out and released Ann-Marie from her mobile prison while the Sergeant responded to some radio messages.
“ Sorry, “ Jen said. “ I really didn’t expect him to come out to see you. I’d mentioned it once when the stuff was found, and Heath heard me and said it was a good idea. Sarge isn’t really into anything esoteric.”
She looked to the police car, where the Sergeant was hanging up the radiophone and getting out of the car.
“ He’s a strictly ‘just the fact’ kind of guy. He must be worried.”
Ann-Marie nodded.
“ With good reason, I think.”
She looked across the scene at the park. The news van had gone, taking with it the cameraman and the reporter, but four other police officers still wandered about, tying police tape around the area and trying to keep the gaggle of gawkers at bay. There were maybe twenty people trying to crane their necks over the person in front of them to see... what, yellow tape strung between trees? White surveyors paint sprayed as the outline of a person on the ground? Did they expect the killer to come waltzing back, telling everyone how they had done it, and why?
There was a persistent niggling at the edge of her perception. Something was drawing her into the park, in the direction of the outline on the ground. Jen noticed the preoccupation.
“ You okay?”
“ Yeah, it’s funny. Can you feel it?”
Jen screwed up her nose and shrugged.
“ There’s something, I don’t know what.. That’s why i mentioned your name. It was more instinctual than a want to get you involved, but somehow i knew you needed to be. Do you think it’s connected to last night?”
“ What happened lat night?”
The Sergeant had come up to them unnoticed.
“ We were at a meeting last night and heard some strange rumours.”
“ Oh yeah? Anything you’d care to share, constable?”
Ann-Marie pointed to the taped off area.
“ Can we go over there?”
The Sergeant looked at Jen, his expression telling her he intended carrying on this conversation at a later time.
“ Of course. I’ll get you an escort.”
He looked around and caught the eye of another constable.
“ Rick!”
The constable trotted over.
“ Yes boss.”
The Sergeant pointed from Ann-Marie to the taped off area.
“ Could you please escort Mrs Porter ...”
“ Ms Porter,” Ann-Marie clarified.
The Sergeant nodded.
“ Miss Porter, to the actual scene. Take Kearney as well.”
“ Sure thing boss.”
He offered his arm to Ann-Marie who took and allowed herself to be led away, with Jen following. The Sergeant went to talk to the forensics men. The constable tried to strike up a conversation as they walked to the crime scene.
“ So you’re the psychic?”
“ That’s me,” Ann-Marie said. “ I don’t see dead people of anything, well rarely, but they sometimes talk to me, or show me things.”
“ Yeah?”
He seemed genuinely impressed, a believer rather than a naysayer. He held out his hand as they walked.
“ Rick Hunter.”
Ann-Marie took it and they shook hands briefly. She jumped a bit when their palms touched.
“ Psychometric as well?” Rick asked as they released each other’s grip.
“ Not really, no.”
“ Did you get something?” Jen asked.
“ No. Not really. You know I’m better with the cards and things.”
They arrived at the place where the young girl’s body had been found. The crude markings in white paint stood out stark against the trampled green of the grass. Ann-Marie walked around the perimeter, looking at the shape, wondering at the waste of a human life. The girl had been laid out, her arms at right angles to her body, but the arms seemed strangely short. Constable Rick saw the look on Ann-Marie’s face and explained.
“ Her arms were outstretched, but folded so that her hands were clasped together on her chest.”
He gave a physical demonstration to illustrate what he was saying. Ann-Marie looked at the paint outline and moved to look at it from both near the head and the feet. She looked off into the distance, then turned around to do the same in the opposite direction.
“ What is it?” Jen asked.
“ Don’t know.”
Ann-Marie wandered around again, checking the orientation then looking off into the scrub again.
“ Have either of you got a compass?”
“ There’ll be one in the car, I reckon,” Constable Rick offered. “ Want me to get it?”
“ Yes, please.”
“ Back in a sec.”
He loped off in the direction of the car. Jen came closer to Ann-Marie.
“ He’s a good guy, “ she said. “ Bit of a go-getter, but he’s good.”
“ He’s got a secret.”
“ Haven’t we all?”
“ Maybe.”
Ann-Marie looked back to the car. Constable Rick was getting back out of the car, holding up the compass and waving it in the air. He ran back and handed the compass to Ann-Marie.
“ What are you expecting?”
“ Well, “ she said, “ unless I’m mistaken ...”
She lined up so she was looking along the line of the body from head to toe. She looked at the compass, waiting for it to stop wriggling.
“ ... and I’m not. She’s lying almost perfectly North/South.”
Ann-Marie moved until she was standing next to one of the elbow marks.
“ And just to check ... yep. East/West.”
Both Jen and Constable Rick looked blankly at her.
“ Okay, they lined her up with a compass. So?”
Ann-Marie handed the compass back to Rick. She turned until she was facing North, and started pacing off into the bush surrounding the park. The Council only kept a small part of the area mowed, occasionally slashing the rest when it became unmanageable and unsightly. At this point in time the scrub was maybe a foot high, in places maybe a little higher. Some small spindly shrubs stuck up here and there, some feral grevilia’s ruled near a tumbledown of rocks. Ann-Marie led Jen and Rick into the scrub, continually turning to check on her orientation in relation to the paint lines of the girl’s body. One hundred and fifty metres from the markings, she stopped. Jen and Rick caught up.
“ What have you got??” Rick asked.
Ann-Marie pointed at the ground where a small area of grass had been burned back. In the middle of the scorch mark was a small fat lamp, barely smoking .
“ I think it’s called a charnel pot, but I could be wrong. Better get your team over here, and check the other cardinal points. I’m willing to bet there are others at each point.”
Rich ran off again, pulling his radio from his pocket as he did so. He called for the Sergeant, and the Forensics team. Ann-Marie bent down and picked the pot up.
“ Wait,” Jen said.
“ Don’t worry. It’s unglazed. Porous,” said Ann-Marie as she looked about the pot, turning it around as she hunted for some sort of markings. “ It won’t take fingerprints. Look.”
She pointed to some dark staining on the ceramic.
“ What is it?” Jen asked.
“ Again, I might be wrong, but if your scientists check it, I think you’ll find it’s her blood.”
Anne-Marie kept looking around.
“ There’s more,” she said.
“ What?” asked Jen.
“ I don’t know. I just ...”
She broke off and wandered toward the tumbledown, explaining as she went.
“ I’ve got this itchy, sort of tingling in my throat. Don’t you feel it?”
“ I thought I was just coming down with a cold.”
“ it’s more than that.”
She pointed up toward the rock wall that had once been home to the pile of rocks.
“ Look up there. See that line?”
Jen followed the line of Ann-Marie’s arm, noticing a washaway down the face of the rocks.
“ There’s three of them. Natural water courses when the rains come in big. If you follow them up ...”
Ann-Marie started to climb the lower rocks, puling herself up.
“ ... yep. There they are.”
Jen struggled to jet up the rocks, surprised at the ease Ann-Marie did. She caught up, huffing and puffing slightly.
“ There’s what?
Ann-Marie pointed further off to where three creeks, now dry, had cut their way through the rock of the hillside.
“ Nothing on this planet happens without a reason. Those creeks all join up more or less here, feeding into one point that becomes the creek. There’s a school of thought …”
She turned around on the small flat rock she was standing on until she was looking down on the park, right above where the girl’s body had been found.
“ … that says that rivers, streams and creeks all follow ley lines. You remember them?”
Jen nodded, not wanting to speak to ruin Ann-Marie’s train of thought.
“ The energy lines of the planet. We have them in our bodies, the meridians and nodes that acupuncturists look for. I think what we have here …”
She indicated the point where the North/south line of the girl’s body and the East/West lines of her arms crossed, then pointed where the original line of the resultant creek would have passed through exactly that same spot.
“ … is a node. Nodes are places of great spiritual power, especially to those people fully in touch with the planet. They’re also the points where the elemental spirits enter our realm.”
“ You think she was placed there on purpose?” Jen asked.
“ Either that or we have the weirdest coincidence ever recorded. Actually, if you were to dig, just … there.”
Ann-Marie pointed back at the spot where the two lines would have intersected beneath the girl’s body.
“ if you dig really deep there I’m willing to bet you’d find a rock, magnetic. Magnetite or something. I also think that if you were to actually measure where those pots are …”
She stopped and thought for a minute.
“ How tall do you think she was?”
Jen shrugged and thought for a minute.
“ Five foot six, maybe. Say 165 centimetres. Why?
“ Multiply by 7.61, dah, dah … I hate doing maths in my head … say 12 – 13 metres or so. Dig down about two metres and I’m willing to bet you’d find a crystal at each point. Buried a long time ago.”
“ What’s the maths got to do with it?”
“ Phi ratio. We’ve talked about it.”
Jen nodded, biting her bottom lip as the memory returned. Ann-Marie kept on explaining.
“ Phi ratio, by some extreme coincidence, is the magical mathematic number that explains everything. Plants grow by using a phi ration. Humans do too. If you measure your fist, it is the same as the distance between each of the bodies chakra points. Hand size, feet size, nose size all relates to phi ration and when you break it all down it equals 7.92. Ish.”
“ What about the crystals?”
“ Well, they focus energy. I’d be willing to bet that these ones were supposed to focus the energy of the girl’s spirit back out into the universe.”
“ Like this was planned?”
“ Maybe not exactly the way things have happened, but I’m willing to be the place was prepared - just in case - a long time ago.”
Jen looked across the park. One of the searchers was indicating that they’d found something, stopped down and held up another pot.. Soon another, then another signaled that they too had found something as well.
“ Do you think this is it?” Jen asked, “ This is the first salvo in the final battle?”
Ann-Marie shook her head.
“ I really don’t know.
* * *
The Sergeant was not happy.
“ Too many people all over this thing. Way too many.”
He looked around for the other Constable.
“ Rick!”
Constable Rick’s head popped up from behind a series of bushes where the forensic team was picking up the last of the fat lamps from the south cardinal mark.
“ Yes, Boss.”
“ Try to get rid of some of the gawkers, will you. They’re starting to piss me off.”
“ Okay Boss.”
He went off with a grin, rousing people not connected to the investigation back out past the tapes with threats of prosecution and more. Jen and Ann-Marie watched him go.
“ He’s like a little terrier,” said Jen. “Like to hear himself bark, but always willing to play. This is fun for him.”
Ann-Marie looked at her friend, surprised.
“ Interested in him?”
Jen shook her head.
“ He’s a mate. No. Del and me are great, though I wish he was around more.”
“ What’s Del up to?”
“ Land speculating. He’s developing a piece with his dad up near Coffs Harbour. He only gets to come home for a few days every couple of weeks. We talk every night though.”
Ann-Marie did the squint thing, regarding Jen carefully. Jen caught her gaze and frowned, shaking her head.
“ Don’t buzz me. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Ann-Marie relaxed.
“ I know, but I still worry.’
Jen held her hand up, stopping Ann-Marie.
“ Wait. Look.”
She pointed to the far side of the clearing, where Constable Rick was shoo-ing and old couple from the caravan park back to their Winnebago. Ann-Marie tried to where Jen was pointing. All she could see was bushes. Then, on the far side of where the forensics team was finishing up, a head appeared momentarily above the shrubs.
“ Rick, “ she called.
“ Constable Rick turned. Jen pointed in the direction of the watcher. Constable Rick followed her direction as the head ducked back down again. He held up the okay sign and started to close in on the visitor.
“ Stay here,” Jen said and moved off to the left, to enfilade the man. She pulled her pistol from its holster and crouched down to avoid being seen. Ann-Marie looked and saw Constable Rick had pulled his weapon as well, and was closing in on where she had seen the man’s head pop up. Both the police officers reached the spot together, identified themselves and waited. Constable Rick moved into a small spinney of bushes and kicked them about.
“ He’s gone,” he called out.
Ann-Marie caught a glimpse of movement further off to her left, behind where Jen had gone around. The man’s head popped up again looking at the police.
She pointed at the man.
“ He’s over there,” she called. Both Jen and Constable Rick turned toward her, saw the man and ran in pursuit. Ignoring the command to stay where she was, Ann-Marie ran toward the man to cut off another avenue of escape. The low shrubs tore at her pants and she jumped up to hurdle the smaller ones. The man was running toward the thicker bush toward the hilly end of the park and leaving her for dust. Jen and Rick were closing the gap, but might still be too slow.
“ Oi. Stop!”
The man put in another burst of speed, sprinting and leaping over low bushes.
“ Stop, you idiot, or I’ll shoot!” Constable Rick yelled.
The man reached the first of the trees. Constable Rick stopped, steadied himself and fired a single shot that ripped into the branches above the man’s head. He ducked, but kept running, his figure swallowed up by the trees. There was some snapping and crashing of branches as the man forced his way through. Jen followed in his wake, yelling for the man to stop.
“ What the hell…!”
The Sergeant came up behind Ann-Marie.
“ There was a man over there watching.”
“ There are people every – bloody – where,” the Sergeant roared.
“ Not many of them ran when told to stop.”
Constable Rick followed Jen into the trees. There was a series of loud crashes, and Jen called out. Two minutes later, and Constable Rick came out of the trees, holding Jen’s arm. Jen was holding her free hand over her right cheek. Ann-Marie and the Sergeant waited for them to come close. Ann-Marie saw blood on Jen’s shirt and fingers.
“ Jen. Are you okay?”
Jen nodded.
“ Yeah. He set up a little booby trap.”
“ What ‘s going on?” the sergeant asked.
“ Guy in the bushes peeping, Boss,” Constable Rick said. “ More than a gawker. I think he was taking pictures. Off like a scared rabbit when we went after him.”
“ Did you get a good look at him?”
Constable Rick shook his head.
“ You pair?” the Sergeant said to Ann-Marie and Jen.
They both shook their heads.
“ He was too far away and into the trees.”
“ You okay?”
“ Yes boss. He rigged up a tree branch. I hit it hard and it slapped me in the face. It’s only a little cut.”
“ Give us a look.”
He pushed Jen’s hand away and touched the bleeding spot. The cut was about half an inch long, the blood already starting to dry and clot.
“ Get the forensics to check for footprints or anything and go to the hospital. Get it cleaned and checked.”
“ Yes, Boss.”
The Sergeant pointed at Ann-Marie.
“ You go with her, then both of you, my office. Right?”
Ann-Marie nodded. The Sergeant turned and walked toward the forensics team, muttering as he went.
“ Just what I bloody need.”

8.
Jen and Ann-Marie sat in the Sergeant’s office in two uncomfortable visitors chairs, waiting for the Sergeant to finish his phone call. The doctor’s had patched Jen’s cut, had wanted to stitch but settled for butterflies and a gauze patch. Ann-Marie stared at the patch on her friends face until Jen turned to her.
“ What?”
“ Sorry.”
“ For what?”
“ You got hurt.”
“ I got a scratch. It’s not like you caused it.”
“ I feel responsible.”
Jen rolled her eyes.
“ Oh yeah. You told that shitbird to run into the trees. Held a gun to his head?”
They lapsed back into silence, waiting for the Sergeant to show up. It took ten minutes. He clomped in, pushed the door shut and went to the seat on the far side of the desk. The gas charged cylinder gasped as he dropped down, swiveled and looked across the desk at Jen and Ann-Marie. This man was so not like the officer who had appeared at her doorstep only a couple of hours ago. This version of the Sergeant did not suffer fools gladly, and did not like the idea of being recognized as a potential fool himself.
“ Impressions?”
“ Ann-Marie believes we have a cult here. She …”
Jen stopped abruptly when the Sergeant held up his hand to interrupt.
“ Perhaps Ms Porter can speak for herself?”
He looked squarely at Ann-Marie and waited, his right eyebrow raised, Spock-like. Ann-Marie made a mental note that she liked the other version of the Sergeant better, and quickly prayed for his swift return, knowing that until then, she was stuck with this one.
“ It’s true. I think you have a cult. I think the young lady was a sacrifice, but to whom and for what I have no idea. Bountiful seas for the fishermen? Good hard rock for the quarry? We’re not exactly big on farming around here. But she was sacrificed for something.”
“ Why?”
“ I thought I’d explained that,” Ann-Marie said, caught off-guard by the question. “ Or at least tried to.”
“ No. Why do you say sacrifice. I’ll play devil’s advocate here. Why not a regular, old fashioned murder dressed up to push the blame on the hippies up the mountain? Or have us waste our time hunting for non-existent cults?’
“ You asked for my thoughts. I didn’t think there was going to be a test,” Ann-Marie said.
“ it’s no test. The press saw you arrive with us. They know who you are, probably better than I did when I first met you. You can bet that on the very next news bulleting they will be shouting that the police need to bring a psychic in to help because they are …”
The Sergeant made the international physical symbol for quotation marks with his fingers.
“ … baffled.”
Ann-Marie waited for the Sergeant to actually catch up to the point, which at the moment seemed many, many steps in front.
“ In short, Constable, Ms Porter, I have introduced an outsider, a civilian outsider, into a fresh new case as an advisor. I had better have a bloody good explanation why ready for when I am asked.”
Ann-Marie caught up now. He was into arse-saving mode, just in case.
“ There are several signs pointing to a cult. One is the site preparation. A murderer would use some of the ideas, but most are obscure references that are very hard to find. The crystals under the ground …”
“ Yet to be found,” the Sergeant said.”
“ Oh, they’ll be there. The fact she was laid out along the points of the compass, with the fat lamps at each cardinal mark.”
Jen broke in to the conversation.
“ She had some designs drawn on her body. They’d been washed away, but there were still traces.”
“ What sort of markings?” both the Sergeant and Ann-Marie asked simultaneously.
“ Squiggles from what I could see, Maybe some stars or something.”
Ann-Marie looked back into the Sergeant’s eyes.
“ Someone killed this girl for a reason. It was no random act. Maybe they’re a Death cult who went looking for new victims. I don’t know.”
She looked to Jen, then back to the Sergeant.
“ I think there will be more. Soon.”

9.
Thick, heavy curtains held back the morning sun, with the edges taped to the walls to defeat any external light from entering. The only illumination came from five fat candles burning on a stained carpet, studded with burn marks and scores from something sharp being dragged across the fibres. Furniture was sparse, a rough wooden table with some unlit candles in handmade ceramic candlesticks that had probably started life as a cheap entertainment unit, an old vinyl lounge covered by a rough knitted multicoloured blanket and what would have been a rough, hand carved wooden mantelpiece has a fireplace actually been fitted. More ceramic candlesticks stood on the faux mantle again unlit. Between them was stacked a dozen books on the Occult, old books, leather bound and thick with coarse paper.
The flickering flames from the fat lamps cast dancing shadows across the darkness. Occasional flares showed dark signs scrawled across the walls, mostly pentagrams, stars, moons, some seemingly random scribblings. If there were any real rhyme or reason to the markings, it wasn’t immediately apparent.
One of the curtains near the lounge fluttered and moved aside, held by a hand extended from the next room, revealing a doorway. A young woman, small, petite, thoroughly naked if one discounted the red markings covering her body stepped slowly into the room. She held her hands before her, carrying in them a hand-thrown clay bowl in the rough shape of a human skull with the crown chipped away. The woman walked carefully, as though afraid of tripping on something hidden by the shadows or spilling whatever was contained in the bowl. Her long, dark hair was tied in a pony tail that hung to the small of her back, with bush flowers entwined through the strands. Dark make-up like panda eyes gave her a mask like appearance.
The girl’s lips moved in silent speech as she walked to the mantle. The hand holding the curtain pushed it further, and a man, not much older than the girl entered the room. He allowed the curtain to fall back into place and sat down on the couch as the girl placed the bowl on top of the books on the faux mantle between the candle sticks. From between the books she took a pack of matches and set both candles alight. Plumes of fat smoke twisted to the ceiling.
“ Amanda.”
The man seated on the couch spoke quietly, but he may as well have not spoken at all. The woman stood before the faux mantle, her hands pressed together as though in prayer, her eyes closed, still silently mouthing dark nothings. The flickering candles distorted the look of her face.
“ Amanda!”
The man hissed the name through clenched teeth. The woman abruptly held out her hand, silencing him. He watched her for a moment before turning his eyes to his hands, holding them together before him, squeezing his fingers, digging his fingernails into his skin.
The woman picked up the bowl , turned and carried it to the epicentre of the five burning fat lamps on the floor She bent at the waist and placed the bowl between her feet.
“ Amanda. I’m scared.”
The man had grown a tremor in his voice. The woman turned to face him.
“ it’s not you that has anything to worry about, Michael.”
“But ...”
Her look, her glare, silenced him again. Her eyes, as dark as the shadows around the room were cold, snakelike. The man shrank back on the lounge and regarded his hands again.
“ Be quiet, Michael.”
She squatted down over the bowl, balancing herself by wrapping her arms around her knees. The woman tilted her head back, her eyes rolled back in her head. With a gasp, her body tensed, and she groaned as a tremor passed through her. Through clenched teeth she sucked air into her lungs, holding it as her body was rocked by muscle cramps. She grimaced, her lips peeling back, revealing yellowing teeth. She cried out softly, then clenched again. From between her legs a trickle of dark, semi-clotted blood dripped into the bowl, dripping into the liquid already held within. The trickle grew to a stream, the dark blood thinning and running more freely. Convulsions were now rocking the woman’s body, threatening to throw her off balance, but she held her place, groaning as each cramp squeezed her abdomen.
A last contraction had her crying out. The man looked up at her as her eyes rolled back to their normal position.
“ Michael!” she hissed through still clenched teeth.
The man got up from the couch and moved closer.
“ Help me.”
Mechanically, the man reached down and slipped his hands around the woman’s arm, pulling her up to standing. She rose slowly, gasping and crying out in pain as she did so. Michael kept a firm hold and led her to the couch, helping her slowly sit down. When he let go of her arm, the woman lay down, curling her legs up and rolling into a foetal ball. She was crying, but had a strange, almost maddened smile on her lips. The dark panda makeup ran down her cheeks in brown slices, as though her eyes were bleeding.
“ Amanda?”
“ Tonight.”
The man nodded. The woman rocked herself on the couch.
“ Bring him tonite.”

10.
Ann-Marie decided that the definition of “tired” in the dictionary would contain a picture of her. Why she felt so drained, she couldn’t say, but she was feeling every mile of her 36 years. How much had the small world she inhabited changed in the past twenty four hours?
Jen had dropped Ann-Marie off at her house at the Sergeant’s insistence. They’d chatted about the day very briefly before Jen left to go home herself. Del, her oft travelling soon to n\be millionaire boyfriend was due in a few hours. Jen wanted to wash the scent of the bush, the uniform, everything distasteful about her job off her person before Del arrived. As much as she loved Jen, though, and loved having her around, Ann-Marie was grateful for some alone time to mull through the recent events in her life.
She made herself a mug of tea; chamomile to calm the nerves, vanilla to fight the emotional fatigue and lemongrass for mental alertness, honey for the sweetness and lemon for the taste. The scent alone calmed her mind and Ann-Marie allowed the steam to surround her as she walked into the lounge carefully settled into her papas an chair. Frank the cat regarded her from his spot on the verandah, his face inscrutable.
“ What ho, tame tiger.”
Frank meowed a typical cat’s meow.
“ Really?”
Ann-Marie looked toward the phone, saw the blinking light.
Better check that before taking a nap, she thought to herself. After a quiet meditation.
She sipped the tea, and started her breathing exercises. Slowly she beat the turmoil out of her mind and began focussing on the still pond in her mental sanctuary. It was a philosophy she passé don’t o her students. Create in your mind a place where you are totally safe. Everything there is there for a reason. Each person constructed their own little paradise. It was from this place that the guided meditations launched. Ann-Marie’s included the little bridge over the creek in the meadow, with the little cottage under the trees. The cup finished, she carefully lowered it to the floor, pulled her legs neatly into a lotus position and started to form her finger mhudras. She intoned her protection chants silently in her mind, asking for safe passage to a place beyond the physical world.
She felt herself slip away. The sensation of her sitting down cross legged in the chair faded, and she was there, standing knee deep in wildflowers and grasses. Wildlife abounded. Deer looked up as they chewed the long grass. Cute and fuzzy bunnies hopped out of her way, but only to let her past. They had no fear of her here. Everything in this place was safe. They could be harmed by nothing.
Ann-Marie put herself on the path. Small birds swooped about her, singing like Disney characters as they did so. The day, as usual, was perfect. Bright sunshine, and colours that stood out so brightly that in the real world sun glasses would be mandatory. She wandered the path, stopping at the bridge to watch some fish swim underneath. Large bullfrog sat on a log and watched Ann-Marie pass, it’s giant eyes swivelling in their sockets.
Ann-Marie felt at peace here, just as it was intended. Away off in the distance, though well within eyesight, stood the cabin. Every trip here was different. Sometimes the cabin lay almost on the bank of the creek, sometimes back in the trees. Everything was fluid, because it was born from her imagination, so little details like continuity were irrelevant. So the flowers today were a different colour to yesterdays, the sun brighter or the orientation of things a little scattered. In here she was safe, and Mistress of her own Destiny.
But today there was a doubt. Ann-Marie could not put her finger on it. Here, in this world of safety and solitude, where no-one else could enter, here something was ... wrong. There was no other word for it. It wasn’t a bad wrong, but it had a grating feel to it. The feeling rode her nerves made her edgy, but not enough to throw her out of the meditation. She continued on toward the cabin, looking out for something out of the ordinary, but unsure how to recognise it in a place that really didn’t exist.
Ann-Marie closed on the cabin. The woodland creatures faded away until she stood alone at the door. The edgy feeling had arrived, bringing with it a healthy dose of paranoia and jitters. Something, someone, waited for her inside. Something had found its way into the deepest recesses of her mind and hijack her sanctuary. Ann-Marie began to feel nervous, but still not enough to abandon the meditation. She’d had odd feelings before during meditations and generally rode them out or waited until whatever was causing the sensations to reveal itself, either physically, or in a dream. She took a final step closer.
Spirit-self Ann-Marie looked down. At the bottom of the door, where the rough hewn wood – hand cut by Ann-Marie in her sanctuary forest – didn’t quite touch the door jamb, soft gold light pulsed in a slow vibration. It looked warm and inviting. Her toes were only an inch away, and each pulse took it closer. The light extended to touch her skin and she felt a physical touch, not unpleasant. Rather the touch of the light was a comfort. She knocked on the frame of the door. It swung open noiselessly.
Funny, Ann-Marie thought, I thought I’d created it with one of those annoying squeaks fitted.
Perhaps her visitor had oiled them. Anything was possible in this safe world of make-believe. The soft gold light, held back by the wooden door, tumbled out now past Ann-Marie like a wave, out across the meadow. Everything the light touched turned gold, brightening the place even further. Ann-Marie looked around, marvelling at how the light flowed like honey across her world. She looked back into the cabin, all polished within an inch of its life. Ann-Marie smiled. From inside, a gentle voice, booming but whispered bade her welcome.
“ Come in Dear One. We have been waiting for so long.

* * *
It was a girl’s room, make no mistake. Pink curtains, frilly bibs and bobs, a few teddy bears scattered around but few pictures. No teen idols, favourite movies or music stars. The couch was the same, though, the rough blanket that had covered it gone into hiding. The couch now sported a crocheted cover, with small pillows tossed about. A large multicoloured carpet covered a large part of the floor. On the mantelpiece above the fake fireplace, a collection of young adult novels sat stacked a half dozen high. On the wall, above the couch hung a set of ceremonial samurai swords, the only object at any real odds with the rest of the decor.
Outside the open windows the sky was growing darker as the sun rode down its path to the horizon. The mountains and hills to the west of town would hide the sun’s rays long before actual sunset, casting shadows over the houses in an early twilight. In other houses, children were washing up for dinner, finishing homework or watching TV.
Amanda entered the room, the door swinging noiselessly open on well oiled hinges, dressed in an almost childish pink dress, bobby sox and baby doll shoes. Her hair, freshly washed, was tied in a simple ponytail. She looked younger than her eighteen years. Her fingernails were painted black. Rebel.
Her guest followed behind. He pushed the door shut behind and waited to be shown where to sit. Amanda ushered him to the couch, and bent over to “assist” him down comfortably. His eyes were focussed on the top of her dress which fell forward as she leaned toward him.
“ Coffee?” Amanda asked politely.
The offer was refused, with a wave of the visitor’s hand.
“ You asked to see me,” he said, his voice quiet, cultured. His voice was light on emotion, but his eyes gave away his intent. Amanda avoided his gaze and looked out the window at the darkening sky. The man leaned forward and took her hand into his. Amanda started as if surprised.
“ Talk to me,” the man said, his voice just barely above a whisper. “ Michael said it was important. I left work early to come.”
The corner of his mouth jerked upward quickly before he regained control.
“ Talk to me, Amanda.”
Amanda pulled her hand away, not looking at her visitor. She stared at the carpet, the window, the doorway, anywhere but into his eyes.
“ I ...”
She hesitated.
“ Yes?”
“ I have a problem. A serious one.”
“ Indeed?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, his chin on the knuckles of his hand.
“ If I can help, you have but to ask.”
Amanda turned to face him.
“ Jocelyn means to kill me.”
The man’s eyes snapped wide open, surprised.
“ You know this?”
Amanda nodded.
“ At the ritual, Jocelyn, was talking to the Hunter.”
The man straightened.
“ And they discussed this? In front of you?”
Amanda turned away.
“ They didn’t know I was there. I was gathering flowers for the sacrifice. Jocelyn was unhappy with the Hunter. His offerings have not been ...”
She stopped, as though searching for the right word. The man finished for her.
“ Pure enough.”
Amanda nodded and turned away to hide the smile on her face. She had him. He was caught in her trap with no way out. Some men were hopeless. She forced the smile away and turned back to the man.
“ Jocelyn questioned the Hunter, about the sacrifice. She wasn’t convinced the sacrifice was untainted. She demanded, commanded the Hunter to bring a virgin. The Hunter argued that finding a virgin was almost impossible in a small town. Jocelyn told him that there was one close by.”
The man was almost shaking. He tried to speak, and coughed to clear his throat.
“ You?”
Amanda nodded.
“ You feel Jocelyn is keeping you here, just in case?”
Amanda nodded again, casting her eyes to the floor as the smile threatened to break through again. The man had no such misgivings. His grin was wide and hungry. He licked his lips lie a ravenous dog before the full dinner bowl.
“ And how do you think I can help you?”
His voice had grown unsteady. He’d had thoughts, desires of a conversation like this, maybe not so melodramatic, but leading to the question he knew was coming. His hands shook as Amanda turned away again, he hands clasped in front of her as though she were praying to a more benign god.
“ I can’t be a virgin.”
The man nodded.
“ I don’t want to die.”
“ Not even for the Father, for his glory, his power?”
Amanda shook her head, her ponytail flapping left and right.
“ I want to live to see his return.”
“ Fair enough.”
The man stood and stepped up behind Amanda. He put his hands on her waist.
“ You want me to ...?”
Amanda turned before he finished his question.
“ Yes,” she said in a whisper. “ Now.”
The mans eyes widened again. His dream. He could not believe his luck.
“ Why me? Why not ...?”
“ Michael?” Amanda said with a snort of derision. “ He’s just a boy. I want a man to take me, to make me a woman, to save my life.”
The smile broke through the facade and she quickly forced herself to look at the floor. Her eyes took in the sight of the man’s less than comfortable fit in his pants. To Amanda, this sounded more like the cheap soap operas that other girls her age were addicted to. That a man could be caught so easily astounded her, especially one who should be old enough to know he was being played, and losing the game.
He placed his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look in her eyes. Amanda resisted until she fought the smile under control, the allowed him to raise her face up. She saw the longing on his face, in his eyes, the hungry, almost begging look. He was hers for the taking. She reached up, put her hands on her shoulders and slid the short sleeves of her dress aside. A few small wriggles and the dress slid down her body to the floor.
The man stepped back to survey what was being offered to him. She wore simple white cotton underpants and bra, her skin so pale. His rush of desire made the faint marks on her skin invisible. Amanda knew she could have had road signs tattooed on her body and he would have ignored them. She reached back and undid the bra, pulling it off her arms and dropping it to the floor. He licked his lips as though suddenly his mouth were awash. Amanda slipped her fingers under the waistband of her panties and pushed them down. The man moaned as they hit the floor.
“ My god,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Amanda took his hand and led him back to the lounge. She had him sit down and knelt before him. He didn’t resist as she undid his belt, assisted by raising himself up slightky so she could pull his pants down, freeing his erection.
“ Have you ever ...?” he began, his voice a rasping whisper.
“ I had to,” she said, taking his erection in her hand. “ Some boys won’t take no for an answer.”
She took him into her mouth. He shuddered and arched his back, sucking air between his clenched teeth. He put his hands on her head, forcing her to adopt his rhythm, pushing deep into her throat until she gagged. Amanda allowed his insistence. She felt him tense and pulled away.
“ Not yet,” she said.
“ No,” he agreed. “ Not yet.”
His breathing was ragged, as though he’d run a mile. Amanda looked at him, wondering if he were a candidate for a heart attack. He sat there, wide eyes almost in tears as she held him tightly in her hand.
“ Let me up,” she said.
The man nodded, and slid aside. Amanda got up and sat beside him. She released his penis and she turned to face him, lying back, facing the door. He turned to her, his back to the door as she sat there, her hand between her legs as she spread them. He shifted up onto his knees, between her legs, moving closer. She moved her hand and took hold of him again, guiding him to her. He entered her slowly, oblivious now to the fact that it was all too easy. There was no resistance. He entered her fully, pressing against her, his weight pushing her down into the couch.
“ Now,” she whispered.
He nodded, unable to speak and lowered his face to her breasts as he fucked her. Unseen by the man as he thrust into Amanda, the door opened silently, and Michael entered the room. Absorbed in his “work”, the man didn’t notice Michael reach up to the swords mounted on the wall. He didn’t see or hear the wazikashi be released from its cradle and pulled from its sheath. He cared for nothing other than making his fantasy come true as Michael took a firm grip on the hilt, his hand firm against the pommel guard, holding the dull-shining blade low like a baseball bat, muscles tense as he waited for the right moment.
Amanda locked her gaze onto Michael, trapping his eyes and locking them to hers like a snake hypnotising it’s dinner. The man was gasping now, his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing through his veins. He broke rhythm, pounding himself into Amanda then cried out, stiffening and arching his back as he came. His eyes wide open, he saw Michael swing the sword , stepping into the swing like Boon at the bat, driving the blade, into his exposed throat. Amanda locked her legs around the man’s waist. He had no time to cry out. The blade slashed his throat down to his spine. The yell that had formed in his lungs became a geyser of blood that shot out and over Amanda’s body, drenching her. Michael pulled the blade free and made ready to strike again.
“ No!” she commanded, her hand raised.
The man caught between her thighs thrashed once, twice and fell forward onto her. His life gurgled through his ruptured throat, his last heartbeats pumping blood onto her stomach. She grabbed hold of the dead man’s hair and thrust his head back, opening his cut throat and pressing it down onto her belly, smearing his blood across her body. Michael stood silently, the sword hanging slackly next to his side. Amanda’s own breath became a rush and she climaxed into her own orgasm. She spread her legs and allowed the man’s body to slide from her, letting the torn throat, and then his face drag against her sex. She pushed him away and his body fell to the floor with a dull thud, the last vestiges of his blood soaking into the carpet. Sightless eyes stared at Amanda a she pushed herself up, casually dipping her finger into the rills of blood on her body and touching them to her lips and her tongue.
“ Well done Michael,” she said. “ Your first sacrifice.”
Michael said nothing, just stared blankly at the dead man and the darkening stain on the carpet. Amanda stepped idly over the corpse.
“ I’m going for a shower. Roll him in the carpet and put him in the car. The quarry should be good. Drop him in one of the holes.”
She stopped at the door, poised on one foot, looking back.
“ No,” she said. “ Something a little more... showy, I think. Just roll him up.”
She left the room. Michael’s hands started to shake and he dropped the sword. He heard the shower start up, heard the shower screen rattle shut and Amanda start to hum some tuneless song to herself. His body lurched, and Michael vomited over the dead man’s face. He quickly looked to the door and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Kneeling down, he manhandled the corpse until it lay lengthways along the carpet and rolled it up tight. The blood had barely seeped through to the timber of the floor.
Amanda’s voice sang out from the shower.
“ Take the blanket from the couch as well.”

11.
“ Wait, Alex. Don’t hang up.”
Jen listened to the phone, heard the answering machine click on, breaking the connection.
“ Damn.”
“ Who is it, hon?” a man’s voice called from the bedroom.
Jen hung the phone back up.
“ Just Alex. A friend of mine. I’ll call him back later.”
Jen wondered why Alex would be calling this early in the morning. She glanced at the clock on the table and choked. Early? Damn, it was nearly seven. Shift started at eight.
“ What’s the matter?”
Jen looked up. Del was standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of shorts and a grin.
“ You sounded upset or something,” he said.
Jen shook her head.
“ Oh, nothing. I’m just late. I’ve ...”
She started to pull things for breakfast from the cupboard and dropped a small plate. It smashed with an almost bell-like clang, scattering debris across the kitchen floor.
“ Bastard!”
Del laughed.
“ Language, dear.”
Jen glowered at him.
“ Not now, dear.”
Her tone on the last word mocked his. If there was one thing that bugged her about Del, other than the fact he spent more time away from her than with her, it was the almost derogatory way he used his many pet names for her. She knew he didn’t say things to hurt her, but sometimes he sounded so smug, so superior that she wanted to haul back and smack him one across the chops.
Del seemed to read her mind.
“ Sorry. What can I do to help?”
Jen relaxed immediately. She was too tense, that much she knew. Del had gotten in late, the day previous with Ann-Marie and her boss, the dead girl. Things were not conducive to a romantic weekend. And, she had to work.
“ How about cleaning that up while I take a shower?”
“ How about I clean that up after we have a shower?” he countered.
Del sauntered over and leaned against the counter at what Jen supposed he thought was a jaunty angle. He raised his eyebrows in a Groucho Marx kind of way.
“ I’m late, “ she said. “ You and your bloody plane being late.”
“ You weren’t worried about it when we got here. You were like an excited little schoolgirl.”
Jen stepped past him, heading for the bathroom. She stopped at the hall, pulled her night T-shirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor.
“ Speaking of that, could you pull the sheets off the bed and pop them in the washer before you go to your mum’s house, please?”
Del looked offended as Jen went into the bathroom.
“ That’s like a thousand of my potential children there. Don’t you want to save them, just in case something happens to me?”
Jen popped her head out of the shower, soap running out of her hair.
“ Something’ll happen to you if you don’t change the sheets. Besides ...”
She ducked back inside the shower and rinsed.
“ ... I’m sure there are plenty more where they came from.”
Del pulled a face and went hunting for a dustpan and broom, finding it in the small cupboard next to the fridge. He swept up as much of the broken plate as he could find and dumped it into the plastic bag that worked as the garbage bin. Replacing the brush and pan where he’d found it, he went into the shower. Jen was under the steaming hot water, washing her hair and brushing her teeth.
“ That can’t taste good,” he said.
Jen wriggled her hand in the international ‘maybe yes, maybe no’ sign, turned and spat toothpaste and spit onto the shower floor. She turned her face into the shower stream and rinsed.
“ I’ve got to stand in there when you’re done, you know?” Del said.
Jen spat on the floor again and ducked her head under the water before turning the shower off.
“ You’ll be happy to know I peed in there as well, then.”
“ What? Awww.”
“ I’m late.”
Jen stepped out from the shower and picked up a towel from the rack. She sniffed it, dropped it on the floor and grabbed another one. It followed. The third towel was a winner.
“ They can go into the wash with the sheets. You do remember the sheets, don’t you?”
“ Yeah, yeah.”
Del watched Jen towel down.
“ Sure you don’t want a hand with that?”
Jen tossed the towel to him. Del caught it and held it up to his face.
“ Ahhh,” he said, “ The musky sent of ... Jennifer!”
Jen gave him her best Smile of Sarcasm.
“ You want to make some toast while I get dressed?”
“ Work work work work work. I thought this was supposed to be time off.”
Jen stepped in from the bedroom, stepping into her underpants. She wrestled the up and looked at Del. He looked at her quizzically.
“ Yesterdays?”
Jen laughed.
“ No. Fresh ones. You ruined yesterdays on the ride home from the airport. Toss them in the wash, too.”
She hunted in the pile of clothes in the hamper for a bra, found one, sniffed it and found it acceptable.
“ That’s kinda gross, you know?”
“ Love me as I am, not how you want me to be, ok? Grab a shower and I’ll throw something together for breakfast?”
Del started to drop his shorts. He turned to face her.
“ Sure I can’t tempt you?”
“ Not with it staring at the floor like that. “
She went back into the kitchen as Del stepped into the shower and started the water running. Jen took the toaster from the cupboard and pulled two slices of bread from the bag on the bench top. She cut the three small green bits from the crust and dropped them into the bin bag. Fifty seconds in the toaster and she buttered the toast, then spread them with Vegemite. As she chewed, she filled the kettle and started it on the boil.
The phone rang, and Jen snatched it up.
“ Alex?”
All she heard was a mysterious buzzing, like a bad mobile connection. She looked at the LCD display in the hand piece and saw that it was an unknown number calling. Odd, she thought. Like all police officers, her number was unlisted. She was about to drop the phone back into its cradle when she heard something.
“ Hello?”
She heard a whispering.
“ Hello, Alex? Is that you? You’re breaking up. Alex?”
More whispering, barely heard above the static.
“ Alex?”
The static got louder as the whispering went quiet. Jen pressed the phone hard up to her ear to try and hear something. The phone felt wet against her ear. She hadn’t dried her hair properly. A drop of water worked its way into her ear, irritating it. She pulled the phone away so she could attack the drip with her finger. She found something sticky in her hair. Jen pulled her finger back and looked at it. A thick black goo clung to her finger.
“ What?”
She looked at the phone. The same black goo was leaking from the small holes in the receiver. It dripped slowly down the hand piece to her fingers and seemed to attach itself to them. She dropped the phone onto the counter top and started to rub her ear. It felt as though the goo was trying to crawl into her ear. She grabbed a tea towel and wiped furiously at the goo, digging a cloth clad finger into her ear to scrape the stuff out. The whispering returned, but now it was in her ear rather than on the phone. More goo extrude from the phone, now from the mouthpiece as well. In the shower, Del turned off the water and stepped out.
“ Jen, have we got a clean towel?”
“ DEL!!” Jen screeched.
Del came running, holding the towel to his groin.
“ What? What?”
Jen clutched the tea towel to her ear and pointed to the phone hand piece.
“ Whoa!”
The goo started to smoke. Long tendrils of black smoke twisted together.
“ What the fuck is that?” Del asked.
Jen stared at the phone and the smoke, her eyes wide and frightened.
The smoke twisted itself into a column a foot and a half long. It writhed about, and changed shape until it was almost serpent like. Twin pinpoints of red light glowed like eyes in the smoke snakes “head”.
“ Jen, what the fuck is going on?”
“ I don’t know.”
The smoke snake opened its mouth and there was a fetid smell of rotting decay. Jen gagged and moved the tea towel from her ear to her mouth. Almost instantly she squealed and threw the towel onto the counter top. Smaller versions of the smoke snake wriggled on the patchwork pattern.
“ Oh shit,” she said, her hands shaking. “ What are we going …”
There was an audible pop. Each of the smoke snakes flashed into red light and dissipated. After ten seconds all traces were gone. Jen picked up the phone and gingerly held it to her ear. There was the standard dial tone buzzing from the hand piece. She dropped the receiver into its cradle.
Del stood there, the towel hanging limply in his hand.
“ What the fuck is going on around here?”

12.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
Ann-Marie pushed herself to wake up, dragging herself out of the deep dream-state she found herself in where everything was soooo good, but was about to go soooo bad. And everyone was in it. Carl and Jen and Del and Alex and Margaret. Bonnie and Charlie and Evie and Mike. Constable Rick was there, though his face seemed perpetually clouded and distorted. The Sergeant was there, trying to talk to her, to get her attention, but he couldn’t talk. And yet, through all this vicarious living, she was at ease. There were elements that would definitely class as “nightmare”, but they were overpowered by a sense of serenity.
Ann-Marie’s dreams – and less often, nightmares – often bore the fruit of truth. She believed her spirit guides showed her things in her dreams they had trouble explaining in other ways. Her dreams were often the precursor to a reality yet to be experienced. Years before she had read a book that explained chaos theory. Most of the math and science was above her head, something she freely admitted. But one part, explaining how observations of an experiment, and the power of expected outcomes could alter the very experiment itself. In her interpretation,. If she was shown the future, it was really just the most probable future should she remain on the current life path she was on. If it were leading to something unpleasant, by changing her outlook, or her ”Way”, she could alter her future.
The phone kept ringing. Her bedroom slowly rotated into focus, though the view was fuzzy. Her neck hurt, and she felt a little nauseous, and the wall seemed to be in the UP direction, rather than the more usual, vertical. She tried to roll over, felt gravity take a hold of her body, and Ann-Marie flew for the split second it took for her body to drop to the floor with a thud. She’d been hanging more or less upside down across the bottom corner of the bed. It explained the headache and the nausea.
Insistent to the last, the phone rang again. Ann-Marie forced herself up, climbing the side of the bed until she could drop down onto it again, within reach of the phone. She fumbled for the receiver, nearly dropping it before her fingers wrapped around the plastic. She brought ti to her head, fumbled to get the mouthpiece near her mouth and the earpiece somewhere close to her ear.
“ Hullo?”
Ann-Marie hoped the caller recognized her voice, because it certainly didn’t sound familiar to her own ears.
“ It’s Mel. Are you awake?”
Ann-Marie yawned deeply. The room was dark and cool. She felt like she could curl up in the blanket and drop off to sleep without too much effort on her part.
“ Hello? Are you there?”
“ Mmmph. Um, yep. Yes. Mel. I’m here. Sorry.”
Still yawning, Ann-Marie let Melanie launch into a tirade. She barely caught a half dozen words that made sense to her somewhat addled mind. A deep yawn caused her to miss a moment of the call. When her hearing caught up, she was listening to dead air as Melanie stopped to catch her breath. She took the opportunity to interject.
“ Mel, hon, you know I love you, but could this wait until morning?”
“ What do you mean?”
Ann-Marie kept a sort of open door policy with her friends. If they were in any sort of trouble, or needed her help with anything, they could call on her any time, day or night. But she wondered if maybe she should stress the part about it needing to be important.
“ Well, like it’s midnight and I’m exhausted.”
Mel fell silent, and Ann-Marie wondered if she offended her friend. Melanie was one of the quiet ones, self conscious, shy and easily embarrassed. She didn’t take confrontation well, or anything she considered criticism.
“ Ann-Marie,” Melanie said quietly, “ Are you okay?”
I wonder.
“ Yeah. Yes. I’m just so tired, and I’ve got this rotten headache.” I just want to go back to sleep until morning.”
“ Ann-Marie. It’s ten o’clock. Open your curtains.”
Ann-Marie sat herself up, fast waking up. She got off the bed and moved to the window, pulling aside one side of the curtain. Outside, the morning was in full swing. The clouds from the last few days had blown out to the south. The sun was shining, birds were singing and somewhere a little further down the hill, someone was mowing the lawn. Probably Mr Coogan, the ex high school principal. Let one blade of grass fall out of place and Coogan had the mower out. She’d been asleep, how long?
“ Ann-Marie. Are you there?”
“ Yeah. Yes. I’m just …”
She stopped talking for a moment, unsure really of what to say.
“ Sorry. I guess I’ve overslept. I … Umm, what’s up.?
“ I was just telling you. Have you got your TV on?”
“ No.”
“ I think you should see this.”
“ Okay.”
Ann-Marie shuffled out to the lounge. She saw herself in the mirror, and saw she was still wearing the clothes from the day before. Her hair was a mess of tangles and she had dark rings under her eyes.
She found the remote under one of the cushions, and after a few pushes on the GO button, the TV started to come to life. The phone squarked in her hand. Ann-Marie lifted it to her ear.
“ Have you got it?” Mel was saying.
“ Yeah. It’s just coming on. What am I looking for?”
“ Local news.”
“ Okay.”
Ann-Marie channel hopped to the local TV station. A car commercial faded out, and a moment later the local newsroom with the smarmy news anchor came on. Looking straight down the barrel of the camera, the anchor looked serious as she led into the story.
“ More on this breaking story, police have recovered the body of Councilor Robert Townsend, who disappeared from his home some time yesterday afternoon. For more we go live to Frank Warner at the scene.”
The picture dissolved, faded out and returned to an outside broadcast. The roving reporter stood in front of an ambulance near a place Ann-Marie could recognize, but not name right at that moment.
“ Are you seeing it?”
Ann-Marie jumped, having forgotten that she was still holding the phone to her ear.
“ I’m seeing it. Look, I’ll call you back. Okay?”
She pressed the disconnect button without waiting for an answer. Melanie would understand. Eventually. She turned her attention back to the TV. On screen, the cameraman panned past the reporter to film a stretcher being wheeled toward the ambulance. Police and onlookers moved through the cameras’ field of vision. She saw the Sergeant and Jen in the background. The reporter read off his report from off camera.
“ The body of Councilor Townsend was found only a hour or so ago at Hatfield Park. The Councilor had been reported missing after failing to return from a walk after dark. Police mounted a search early this morning, using members of the dog squad, local SES members and officers from nearby towns. They found the body tied to a tree near the children’s playgrounds in Hatfield Park. Details are sketchy at the moment, but a witness is quoted as saying that the Councilor had been decapitated. No confirmation though.”
The cameraman did another pass across the park as the doors were closed on the ambulance. Its field of vision locked onto the grim face of the Sergeant, who was heading in the direction of the camera crew. The reporter started to hound the Sergeant for an interview. The Sergeant tried to blitz his way past, but the cameraman, the sound man and the reporter knew their trade and managed to corner him. The Sergeant glared at the camera.
“ We have little to go on at the moment. This is, of course, a brutal killing. We know that Mr Townsend left home after dinner to go for a walk. He left no indication to where he was going or if he was meeting anyone. We are making enquiries to see if we can find someone who may have seen Mr Townsend in the short time before his death. Other than that, no comment.”
The reporter skipped around the Sergeant to block his escape. Ann-Marie knew that if the camera had been turned off, or had there been a lack of witnesses present, the reporter would be lying down on the ground nursing a very sore jaw. He thrust the microphone in front of the Sergeant’s face.
“ What about the rumour Mr Townsend was about to be arrested on charges of …”
The Sergeant pulled the microphone away and glared at the reporter. Both the cameraman and the sound man were jostling around, calling for the Sergeant to calm down, warning him of potential lawsuits.
“ Don’t break the mike, mate.”
“ Hit him and you’re gone.”
“ I’m still filming. Touch it and we’ll sue.”
The Sergeant thrust the microphone back at Fearless Frank.
“ The man is yet to be dead five hours. Why don’t you keep your allegations to yourself? As far as anyone is concerned, Robert Townsend was a good man, good to his family, good to his town.”
He pushed past the news crew, knocking the soundman back. He stopped and turned back to face the camera.
“ We have a serious crime here. Now isn’t the time to build headlines. The ones we’ve got are bad enough. Try to help us, rather than make our lives difficult.”
The Sergeant turned and stormed away out of microphone range. Bravo, Ann-Marie thought. Bravo. On screen, Fearless Frank the reporter made a show of dusting himself off and closing his piece by throwing back to the newsroom. The smarmy female anchor smiled viciously and began to make up some derogatory remarks as Ann-Marie turned the set off.
The phone in Ann-Marie’s hand rang again, and she jumped. Annoyed at herself, she looked at the LCD display, seeing Melanie’s number displayed on the caller ID.
“ Yes. Mel. I saw it. I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll talk about it this afternoon. Okay. Love and Light, bye.”
She pressed the end button and closed off the call. Staring at the phone, she pressed the power off button as well, just in case. The questions Mel had asked were ones she was already considering. Was there a connection to the dead girl? Was there a connection between both killings and the channeled “