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Authors: Terri Persons
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some powerful sisters down there.”
“I met a few characters. Witches. Voodoo priestesses. Satanists.” Bernadette paused, waiting for a reaction. “Lots of Satanists.”
“Takes all sorts.” Ashe dropped a tea bag into her mug and poured water over it.
“The Wiccans in the area didn’t like the Satanists, and I never quite understood why that was the case.”
Ashe turned around with the mug in her hand. “An intelligent woman like yourself—someone who recognizes the Witches Tarot and hung out in New Orleans—I’ll bet you could figure out why those two groups don’t always see eye to eye.”
“I’d like to hear your explanation.”
Ashe blew on her tea. “Wiccans celebrate pre-Christian deities and do not—I repeat, do not— honor the Christian anti-God. Satanists see the Christian anti-God as a manifestation of their deity. They worship him. They worship the Devil.”
“But in terms of visible differences—”
“Let me put it in a way that a nice ex-Catholic girl would understand,” said Ashe, her voice hardening. “Satanists don’t turn the other cheek, okay? There’s no forgive and forget. Some practice black magic with the specific goal of nailing someone who has pissed them off. Their motto is pretty much, ‘Do whatever the hell you want.’ We say, ‘Do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt someone, including yourself.’ Wiccans don’t try to dominate or control or harm others. The way I see it, we are the opposite of Satanists. The exact fucking opposite. The general, ignorant public thinks we’re the same, and that gives us a bad name. Causes us all sorts of problems.”
“But you both use the five-pointed star, don’t you?” Bernadette asked evenly.
Ashe blinked twice and took a sip of tea. “Theirs is inverted.”
“But—”
With a toss of her braids, Ashe turned her back on Bernadette and headed into the front room. “Let’s get this interrogation over with. I’ve got work to do.”
Ashe had apparently decided that she’d said too much. Bernadette followed her out of the kitchen.
Garcia had pulled one of the folding chairs away from the table and was sitting across from the couch. Ashe took the hint, went over to the couch, and dropped down with her tea in her hand. “Don’t you people need some sort of paperwork? Seriously, should I even be talking to you without a lawyer?”
Bernadette sat down on the edge of the coffee table and folded her hands in front of her. “This isn’t that big of a deal. We just want to know if you saw anything on New Year’s Eve. Your residence is close to where the body was found.”
“So are a lot of houses. Lots of people live in and around Paul Bunyan. Go talk to them.” Ashe took a sip of tea and grinned tightly. “Oh, wait. They aren’t a religious minority.”
Bernadette: “We just want to know if you or Karl saw anything out of the ordinary that day.”
“Karl was on the plow all night and into the next morning. None of his jobs were anywhere near Paul Bunyan. They were all in town.”
“What about earlier, before the snow started falling?” asked Garcia.
“He was busy getting his equipment ready. He was holed up in the garage all day.”
“What about you?” asked Garcia.
“I didn’t get outside.” She set down her cup, pulled out another cigarette, and talked as she lit up. “I was in the barn, throwing pots. I have a big show coming up in the spring.”
“What about the healing touch?” asked Bernadette.
Ashe released a cloud over the coffee table. “I’ve been cutting back on that, until the show is over.”
“I understand you’ve been at the hospital offering your ser vices,” said Bernadette.
“I haven’t been there in months,” said Ashe, fingering her cigarette. “Why do you care about that, anyway? That has nothing to do with being in the woods.”
Bernadette fished the dead girl’s photo out of her jacket and extended it to Ashe. “Is she familiar?”
Ashe
“I met a few characters. Witches. Voodoo priestesses. Satanists.” Bernadette paused, waiting for a reaction. “Lots of Satanists.”
“Takes all sorts.” Ashe dropped a tea bag into her mug and poured water over it.
“The Wiccans in the area didn’t like the Satanists, and I never quite understood why that was the case.”
Ashe turned around with the mug in her hand. “An intelligent woman like yourself—someone who recognizes the Witches Tarot and hung out in New Orleans—I’ll bet you could figure out why those two groups don’t always see eye to eye.”
“I’d like to hear your explanation.”
Ashe blew on her tea. “Wiccans celebrate pre-Christian deities and do not—I repeat, do not— honor the Christian anti-God. Satanists see the Christian anti-God as a manifestation of their deity. They worship him. They worship the Devil.”
“But in terms of visible differences—”
“Let me put it in a way that a nice ex-Catholic girl would understand,” said Ashe, her voice hardening. “Satanists don’t turn the other cheek, okay? There’s no forgive and forget. Some practice black magic with the specific goal of nailing someone who has pissed them off. Their motto is pretty much, ‘Do whatever the hell you want.’ We say, ‘Do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt someone, including yourself.’ Wiccans don’t try to dominate or control or harm others. The way I see it, we are the opposite of Satanists. The exact fucking opposite. The general, ignorant public thinks we’re the same, and that gives us a bad name. Causes us all sorts of problems.”
“But you both use the five-pointed star, don’t you?” Bernadette asked evenly.
Ashe blinked twice and took a sip of tea. “Theirs is inverted.”
“But—”
With a toss of her braids, Ashe turned her back on Bernadette and headed into the front room. “Let’s get this interrogation over with. I’ve got work to do.”
Ashe had apparently decided that she’d said too much. Bernadette followed her out of the kitchen.
Garcia had pulled one of the folding chairs away from the table and was sitting across from the couch. Ashe took the hint, went over to the couch, and dropped down with her tea in her hand. “Don’t you people need some sort of paperwork? Seriously, should I even be talking to you without a lawyer?”
Bernadette sat down on the edge of the coffee table and folded her hands in front of her. “This isn’t that big of a deal. We just want to know if you saw anything on New Year’s Eve. Your residence is close to where the body was found.”
“So are a lot of houses. Lots of people live in and around Paul Bunyan. Go talk to them.” Ashe took a sip of tea and grinned tightly. “Oh, wait. They aren’t a religious minority.”
Bernadette: “We just want to know if you or Karl saw anything out of the ordinary that day.”
“Karl was on the plow all night and into the next morning. None of his jobs were anywhere near Paul Bunyan. They were all in town.”
“What about earlier, before the snow started falling?” asked Garcia.
“He was busy getting his equipment ready. He was holed up in the garage all day.”
“What about you?” asked Garcia.
“I didn’t get outside.” She set down her cup, pulled out another cigarette, and talked as she lit up. “I was in the barn, throwing pots. I have a big show coming up in the spring.”
“What about the healing touch?” asked Bernadette.
Ashe released a cloud over the coffee table. “I’ve been cutting back on that, until the show is over.”
“I understand you’ve been at the hospital offering your ser vices,” said Bernadette.
“I haven’t been there in months,” said Ashe, fingering her cigarette. “Why do you care about that, anyway? That has nothing to do with being in the woods.”
Bernadette fished the dead girl’s photo out of her jacket and extended it to Ashe. “Is she familiar?”
Ashe
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