"To tap into dark energy and use it."

Riley nodded.

"But isn't that always the purpose of black-occult activities?"

"You could get arguments either way. In my experience, most practitioners are more interested in flouting everything even remotely traditional in the way of religion, giving God the finger like gleefully misbehaving children, and convincing themselves it's liberating to be able to act like animals."

"Dressing up in robes and screwing in a coffin?"

"Yeah, basically. Only without the human sacrifice."

"So, usually, nobody dies."

"Virtually always, nobody dies. It's rare that anybody bleeds. The only exceptions I know of have been cases when someone genuinely evil is leading or otherwise controlling a group. As in sadistic killer types. A few have tried the Charlie Manson bit, convincing followers to kill for them, but most like to do the killing themselves. It just amuses them to dress up in robes and pretend they're summoning or channeling Satan and it's all for the noble cause of enlightening the ignorant."

Ash was frowning. "Okay. So if human sacrifice was only a…by-product of the ritual to create energy, and if you don't believe Wesley Tate was killed the way he was as a smoke screen to hide a murderer with a motive, then-"

"Who he was may not be so important as I first believed." It was Riley's turn to frown. "But he's part of the puzzle nevertheless. He fits in somewhere, and not just because he provided his lifeblood for some ritual. Victims are chosen. No matter how insane the killer, their logic makes sense in their reality."

"So the next step is talking to the group at the Pearson house."

"They are the only avowed satanists we know of so far. And even if they missed the preliminaries-which is troubling and not helping me put the pieces together-they were certainly here in time to participate in whatever happened Sunday night." She frowned.

"What?"

"That memory flash I just had. I don't know how trustworthy it was, since I was just getting my strength back, but if it was what really happened to me on Sunday night, then when I got to the clearing I had the weird feeling the whole thing had been staged. Or manipulated somehow. The body was real enough, but everything else, even my sense of an earlier ceremony there, had a feeling of unreality about it."

Ash shook his head slightly, not following.

"You said it yourself. Conspiracy in cases of murder really is rare. Maybe there was no conspiracy. Whatever occult ceremonies may or may not have taken place here might have all concluded without a murder."

"And the murder took place later, committed by a single individual?"

"Why not? The satanists have their fun and harmless ritual, dance and chant around the fire, drink a lot of wine and have a fair amount of sex, then go home to sleep it off. The killer comes back later and does his thing, staging it so that it appears to be part of what took place. Ritual. He uses the place and the murder as a means to help generate more negative energy, both through that act and by scaring the shit out of the populace. And he keeps us distracted. So we waste time looking in the wrong places, asking the wrong questions."

"Like who has a motive to murder Wesley Tate?"

"Maybe."

Slowly, Ash said, "If this killer has the ability to tap into energy, of places or rituals or whatever, and channel it, use it, then something has to be driving him. You don't just wake up one day and decide there are better ways of literally destroying people than using guns or knives."

"No. Even if it's a natural gift, the time and effort required to learn to control it…Channeling raw energy is really not that much fun. You'd have to be strongly motivated."

"Maybe by hate?"

"That," Riley said, "would probably do it."

"So the real question is-who might hate you enough to do all this in order to destroy you."

"Yeah," Riley said. "That is the question."

"My bet," Jake said to Steve, "is that forensics will place at least some members of your group in that clearing. Preliminary tests indicate both semen and vaginal secretions from a number of different…donors…on the ground out there. What, Satan doesn't let you bring a blanket to the party?"

"Sheriff," Steve said calmly, "whatever we may have been doing on Sunday evening, everyone in this house was in this house well before midnight. We had a big pizza delivery around eleven; I'm sure that can be verified by the restaurant and by the guy who carried in six large pizzas."

"So? Wesley Tate died sometime between two and six A.M., which means any or all of you had plenty of time to finish your pizza and return to the clearing."

"I never said we were at the clearing."

"We'll soon find out, won't we? Because Riley's statement that you spoke to Wesley Tate before you arrived here, coupled with your own statements to local citizens that you and your group practice Satanism, are enough for the judge to issue a warrant compelling all of you to submit to DNA testing."

When Steve sent a betrayed glance her way, Riley said, "Sorry, Steve, but a man's dead. We have to find out who murdered him and why. We will find out. If you and your people had nothing to do with it, now's the time to convince us."

Jenny spoke up then to say, "I still believe we should have our lawyer present."

Riley studied the dark woman thoughtfully. She was the only member of the group other than Steve who had anything at all to say; the other ten people-five men and five women-seated in the great room of their rental house were all silent and fairly expressionless.

They were a rather varied group, ranging from mid-twenties to nearing retirement age, but otherwise looked like any other visitors to Opal Island in their bright-colored shorts and thin tops, with most sporting at least faint cases of sunburn.

Riley was picking up a general low-level anxiety in the room, which made perfect sense given the situation, but nothing to make her overly suspicious of the group as a whole.

Jenny, though…Jenny was different.

Jenny was worried.

…not what I wanted. How could it be? But…I didn't know. I thought his mind had finally been opened, that he…I thought he had changed.

Interesting. And told Riley a lot. But before she could follow that lead, Jake was pressing again, determined to get his questions answered now that they had a tangible connection between these people and the murdered man.

"People who have nothing to hide don't need a lawyer," he said. "No offense, Ash."

"None taken." Ash was sitting slightly behind Riley at the big dining table, their chairs turned so that they faced the group ranged around the living room, and only he and Riley knew that the hand he rested casually on her shoulder was neither casual nor possessive but a necessary conduit between them.

And a vital source of strength for Riley.

Sitting on the other side of the table, Leah had noted the contact with a smile; Jake appeared more irritated every time he looked their way.

He doesn't hide his thoughts very well. Definitely doesn't like me being with Ash. But whether it's because of me or because of Ash, I can't really tell…

Why am I thinking about this shit?

"I think Jenny's right," Steve said, clearly uneasy now. "Why don't you go away and get your warrant, Sheriff, and we'll get our lawyer, and then we'll see."

Riley didn't have to be able to read him to know Jake was on the point of saying something hotheaded and completely unnecessary, so she spoke before he could.

"Steve, I promised your group wouldn't be harassed and I'll make sure that doesn't happen. But we need to know what you know. Wesley Tate was the one who called you, yes?"