Part 12 (1/2)

Leaning her hips back against the sink, Meredythe gripped the edges of the counter and muttered, ”Well, there goes that theory. I'm sorry, Aunt Evie. I know Celts really weren't into human sacrifice, not like people seem to think. It's just that I've been racking my brain and typing until my fingers cramp, but I can't come up with anything else.”

Evelyn rose and carried the two other teacups on the table to the sink. ”What exactly are you looking for?”

”A clue as to who's responsible for the murders I'm researching.”

”What do you know so far?” she asked as she rinsed them out.

Meredythe frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. ”There have been twelve murders in the last eight years-three in New York, the rest in cities across the country. Every victim has had his throat torn out, and the murders that happened on dirt had wolf or wolf-dog tracks around the bodies.”

Evelyn's hand went to her throat. ”On my. How dreadful. And you said all the murders happened on Celtic holidays?”

Meredythe counted them off on her fingers. ”Yule, Ostara, Litha, Mabon and Samhain.”

”Are you sure?” Evelyn tapped her lips with a finger. ”And there were wolf tracks at all the sites? In all the different cities?”

”Around the bodies not on concrete.”

”Well, then,” her aunt said with a frown, ”you need to find out who is able to travel around the country with wolves without raising suspicion. Circuses maybe?”

Meredythe grinned and threw her arms around her aunt. ”Circuses, of course. I knew I could count on you, Aunt Evie. You've always had the answers whenever I needed them.” ”And I'm always here whenever you need me, dear,” her aunt replied as she returned Meredythe's hug. ”Now I suppose you're going to leave right away.”

Meredythe flushed. ”I know I just got here, but...”

”You want to go work on your story. Go on, dear. You know where to find me.”

”I promise I'll come for dinner next week. What night?” she said impulsively.

Evelyn's smile was fond. ”I'm busy with appointments for tarot readings all next week and I'm dining with Mary Francis the following Tuesday. Better make it a week from Thursday.”

Another hug. ”A week from this coming Thursday. It's a date, Aunt Evie. I promise. I 'll be here with rings on my fingers and bells on my toes.”

Evelyn laughed. ”Mind what you say, dear. I might hold you to it. It's been quite a while since we danced naked in the moonlight.”

Meredythe laughed with her. ”Wouldn't old Mr. Hoffnagle just love that?” After one last hug, she hurried into the living room and shrugged into her coat.

Her aunt followed her out onto the porch. ”Drive carefully, dear. I'll see you Thursday night.”

After blowing her aunt a kiss, Meredythe slid into her car. As she backed out of the driveway, her brain was spinning with names of circuses.

”Is she gone?”

Evelyn closed the door firmly behind her. ”Yes. James was right. She couldn't wait to get back to work on her 'story'.”

Mary Francis set the tray she was carrying onto the coffee table and sat down on the purple sofa.

Jezebel jumped up and settled next to her.

Lifting a cup, Mary Francis sipped. ”I made us some more tea. There's a definite nip in the air today.”

Sighing, Evelyn settled into an overstuffed chair covered with a multicolored afghan. ”It's a wonder you don't slosh when you walk with as much tea as you drink.”

Her friend chuckled and scratched underneath her wimple. ”Ugh, why didn't Rhys pick an order that would ease up on its dress code?”

Evelyn snorted. ”And how was he supposed to know what nuns would be wearing now all those centuries ago? Besides, you were the one who insisted on joining in the first place.”

Shrugging, Mary Francis continued to sip her tea. ”We couldn't just let them take over, you know. Someone had to infiltrate their church and see what their religion is all about.”

Grasping a cup of tea, Evelyn frowned. ”Morgana was supposed to-”

Jezebel hissed.

Her cup clattered on her saucer when Mary Francis set it down. ”Morgana was a traitor, interested only in herself, not the good of her people.”

A low growl rolled through Jezebel's throat.

”Are you sure she's dead?”

Mary Francis nodded. ”No one could have survived that fire.”

Jezebel's low growl became a snarl.

Sighing, Mary Francis stroked the angry cat from the top of her head to the tip of her tail. ”I'm sorry, dear. None of us thought her curse would last after her death, but at least you're still alive.”

”Morgana always was good with curses,” Evelyn mumbled into her cup.

”d.a.m.n it! Why can't I find anything?” Meredythe swore at her computer as she slapped her palms on the desk. She'd been searching over a week and every potential lead had fizzled out.

”Problems?” James King stopped before her desk, an amused smile on his face.

Meredythe wrinkled her nose at her boss and said, ”I can't seem to get anywhere. Do you know not a single circus has an act with wolves? Can you believe it? I was sure I'd get a good lead by checking out circuses.”

Her boss sat down. ”Wolves seem too dignified to lower themselves to the casual entertainment of humans-to me anyway.”

She turned her attention back to her computer. ”Yeah well, I'm not personally acquainted with any so I couldn't say for sure. I really need to consult an expert on wolves. Maybe he or she can give me some insight into their behavior and whether or not they could be trained to kill. That guy who spoke at Columbia University, what was his name?” Shoving her chair back, she rose, went to her desk and began shuffling though her notes. ”Here it is. Dr. Bleddyn Glyndwr.”

James chuckled then said, ”You p.r.o.nounced his name wrong, Meredythe. His name is Welsh. The dd's are p.r.o.nounced like a th, the y like an i, and the wr is p.r.o.nounced like an oor. So his name is p.r.o.nounced Blethin Glindoor.”

Meredythe stared at her notes. Interesting. Her ancestors had been Welsh too. But then, with a surname like Welsh, that was pretty obvious. ”I wonder where he lives. I wish I could have gotten there quickly enough to meet him, but he was already gone by the time I got to the auditorium.” She returned to her computer, her fingers flying over the keys.

James King sat silently, another small smile on his lips. The more she found out for herself the better.

She held up a sheet of paper. ”Here it is. He has his own website. What do you know? He lives in upstate New York-Winterbourne to be exact. What a break. James, I'

ll be out of the office for a few days.”