Haven’t had time to write anything in this journal for a few days. Things have been crazy. The Bitch found my altar and ruined it. She was screaming her head off at me, telling me I was possessed by the devil and a bunch of other bullshit. I told her I didn’t believe in her God. I asked her, if her God was real, why didn’t He protect me from my own father? She told me I was lying again and screamed at me to get out. I told her she was the one who was going to burn in hell, and my dad would roast right next to her, then I left.

I spent a couple nights at my friend’s houses, then RM told me about this shelter, so I came here. KS and MB live here. So far, it’s okay. Met Mrs. Fremont. She’s ancient, but nice.

“It’s the only time she’s written out a name,” Frank said.

“Maybe if you’re ancient, you get special privileges.”

He flipped ahead a few pages.

“What are you doing?”

He ignored me, found what he was looking for, and started laughing. He placed a finger on the page he had turned to, right under “Miss Kelly.”

“Speak to me, oh ancient one.”

“Shut up.”

He kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Remarkably well-preserved.”

“So glad you think so. But you know what? This old lady is tired.”

“Want to go to sleep and finish this in the morning?”

I thought about it. “I don’t want to stay here.”

He ran a finger over my eyebrows. “Okay. I’ll pack up Cody while you get your things together.”

“Thanks.”

We went to his house. Both of us were beat, but a couple of cups of coffee and our interest in the journal kept us going. We sat next to each other at the kitchen table, nearing the end of the entries.

9/25

Things are changing. I don’t like it. Two guys who joined our coven are ruining it. DM and RA are just bullies, as far as I’m concerned. They push people around a lot and keep trying to change what we are all about. Things are getting really weird.

Every now and then, they bring this guy who wears a goat’s mask. It covers his whole head and he wears a long robe, so we never see anything but his hands. That’s how I know it’s a man – they’re man’s hands. He never talks. He just gestures, and DM and RA claim to be able to tell us what he means.

I guess some people think he’s really cool. I don’t like it. It doesn’t fit in with what we’ve been doing. I think some people were getting bored. Maybe it’s because we’re all a little afraid of these guys.

I don’t think I want to stay in this coven. I’m going to ask Zoe about getting into another one. Maybe if we all quit this one at the same time it wouldn’t be so bad.

I have a new roommate, SL. She acts tough all the time. Who needs it?

“Sarah? The one who smuggled the journal to you, right?”

“Right.”

“How much do you want to bet that DM and RA are the characters who gave you a hard time?”

“You may be right. I was thinking the same thing.”

I was starting to yawn, but we kept reading.

10/16

The Goat is very strange. Everyone is playing a game with this now, instead of doing what we are supposed to be doing.

I went to Rhiannon to ask Zoe about another coven, but RM showed up and made a scene. I was so humiliated. I mean, it’s great to know he cares about me, but I don’t need him to treat me like a child, especially not in front of my friends.

10/30

Almost sure I know who the Goat is. His sleeve caught on a branch and I saw his arm. He covered it really fast. I pretended I wasn’t looking, but I definitely saw it.

People keep leaving the shelter. I guess it’s normal, but I hardly get to know someone and they leave. SL is the only one of the girls I’ve known very long now. She’s pretty easy to talk to – I’ve told her a lot of things I’ve never told anybody, and she’s told me a lot of stuff, too. But sometimes I’m not sure she really wants to be friends with me. It’s strange.

10/31

Met a friend of RM’s today. She’s a newspaper reporter. Her name is Miss Kelly. At first I thought she was a total bitch, but I think now maybe that was my fault. I’ve been really edgy lately. I wasn’t very nice to her, and she is trying to help RM. He really trusts her. I don’t know if I trust her so much yet.

Tonight is supposed to be a big deal, being Halloween and all, but I feel really down about it. There is some sort of group within our coven. They keep secrets from the rest of us.

Later -

Things are worse than I thought. DM and RA are up to no good. The Goat is the worst one of all. I’m really scared of them. I guess I’m no better than the others.

Maybe Miss Kelly was right. I think I’ll call her. Maybe she’ll know what to do. Maybe I can just hang out with SL and RM and JC. I’ve got to get out of this place. I’m going to get SL to leave, too.

It’s supposed to be safe. It isn’t.

It was the last entry.

“I failed her, Frank. She was looking for one adult she could trust, and I failed her completely.”

“Let me see, now. Not long ago, someone was telling me that no more applications were being accepted for the position of God.”

“It doesn’t stop you from feeling helpless, does it?”

“No,” he said, putting his arms around me. “You were right this afternoon. Neither of us can go back and change what happened Halloween night.”

“Want to take an ancient newspaper reporter to bed?”

“Come along, Granny.”

After I swore to him that I could get ready for the funeral the next morning in half an hour, he set the alarm for ten o’clock. We fell asleep almost as quickly as we lay down.

THE ALARM seemed to go off immediately. I felt like I was made of lead. Frank practically had to shove me out of bed and into the shower. He propped me up under the spray and eventually I seemed to be fully conscious, if not energetic.

We got dressed and drove to St. James Episcopal Church. I felt close to being right at home. After a night of reading about wicca rituals and chants, the rituals and chants inside St. James would be infinitely more familiar and comfortable. Not so hard for a lapsed Catholic to follow.

We had no sooner sat down near the back row than Pete Baird and Rachel Giocopazzi arrived and sat down next to us. I was surprised to see Rachel, as was Frank. She’s a homicide detective from Phoenix; she and Pete met on a case the previous summer and had been carrying on a long-distance relationship since then. They must have been racking up the frequent-flyer miles.

Pete leaned over to Frank and asked in a whisper if Episcopalians gave out holy cards at funerals. Frank shook his head “no.” As a lapsed Episcopalian, Frank would have to serve as the guide for the three of us. He was tense. He was doing his cop thing of observing everyone and everything in the room, and I noticed Pete and Rachel were doing it, too.

During her lifetime, Mrs. Fremont had been very generous to Las Piernas, not only with her money, but with her time as well. She had served on a number of community boards and organizations. Her work on behalf of young people had earned her many friends. The church was packed. In the front pew sat Paul Fremont and a man I didn’t recognize, but who had a rather striking appearance, even when seen from the limited view I had of him. He was about the same height as Paul, but he was wearing a black leather jacket with chains on the shoulders. His head was shaved and he wore an earring in one ear.