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Authors: Josh Lanyon
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Guy went for the mesclun salad with marinated ricotta, pine nuts, and crostini currants. I opted for a sandwich with smoked meat, provolone, and tangy cherry peppers.
“So what caused this misunderstanding?” I inquired, returning to our original topic of conversation. “Did anyone explain it to you?”
“Yes. And I’m satisfied that it is over.” His gaze found mine again, and he smiled wryly.
“I know the kids involved. They got a little carried away, that’s all. You can tell Angus it’s safe to come home.”
“Just in time for finals,” I said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where he is.”
His eyes never wavered. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
After that we chatted idly, politely, until our meal arrived. I thought that, although this was not really a social occasion, certainly nothing remotely resembling a date, it was pleasant to be sharing a nice meal with an attractive man -- in public. And he was very attractive.
Cultured, urbane, witty -- exuding an easy, unconscious sexuality. Polar opposite from Jake. I wondered what Jake would make of him.
“What happens when Angus does come back?” I inquired eventually.
“Is he coming back?”
The Hell You Say
43
I thought of Mrs. Tum and Lester Naess. “I hope so,” I said.
Glass stem between his fingers, Snowden gently circled the base of the glass on the linen-covered table, warming the wine. “You see, the others believe that Angus is a warlock.”
“Isn’t everybody?” That wasn’t exactly what I meant. “I mean, aren’t they all part of a coven?”
He answered me indirectly. “Warlock is the term for an oath breaker. For one who has lied or broken a pledge of silence.”
“I thought it was a male witch.”
“Partly. It would be a witch who practices the Black Arts. A witch who worships Satan.
Most modern witches are Wicca, and Wiccans don’t, you know.”
“So this group or coven is Wicca? Then I don’t understand why an inverted pentagram was painted on my doorstep.”
His brows drew together. “Inverted? Are you sure?”
I removed one of the photos from my day planner, pushed it across to Snowden. He stared at it for a long moment.
“Are you sure you talked to the right people?” I inquired, watching his expression.
His eyes veered to mine. “Certainly,” he said, but he sounded less than certain.
“What’s the Ars Goetia?” I asked.
“Where the devil --?”
I kid you not. “Where the devil,” like you’d expect to hear from Colonel Mustard in The Study. I murmured, “No pun intended?”
He stared at me, but I didn’t think he saw me. At last he said, “It’s the first section of an anonymously-written seventeenth-century grimoire known as The Lesser Key of Solomon.
Do you know what a grimoire is?”
“Book of Shadows, right?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You surprise me.”
“I had a lot of time to read as a kid.” Not that you would find a copy of the Book of Shadows in your school library -- unless you’re attending Hogwarts.
“Then you’re probably aware that the Book of Shadows is a kind of witches’ Bible, only rather more than that. It’s a personal record of rituals and spells and lore, each one unique.”
“But isn’t there a definitive Book of Shadows?”
He grimaced at this ignorance. “No. Different traditions have reclaimed and reedited the most famous source materials into their own grimoires. There are illustrious historical grimoires: The Black Pullet, The Greater Key of Solomon, The Lesser Key of Solomon.”
“So what is Ars Goetia?”
44 Josh Lanyon
“Essentially it’s the name, rank, and serial number of seventy-two demons King Solomon is said to have conjured and then imprisoned in a bronze vessel fastened with magic seals.”
“And this symbol?” I pointed to the line drawing that Ariel had told me was the signature of a high-ranking demon.
He shook his head. “It’s a sigil. A sign or seal in magic.” He glanced at me and said, “It’s a
“So what caused this misunderstanding?” I inquired, returning to our original topic of conversation. “Did anyone explain it to you?”
“Yes. And I’m satisfied that it is over.” His gaze found mine again, and he smiled wryly.
“I know the kids involved. They got a little carried away, that’s all. You can tell Angus it’s safe to come home.”
“Just in time for finals,” I said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where he is.”
His eyes never wavered. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
After that we chatted idly, politely, until our meal arrived. I thought that, although this was not really a social occasion, certainly nothing remotely resembling a date, it was pleasant to be sharing a nice meal with an attractive man -- in public. And he was very attractive.
Cultured, urbane, witty -- exuding an easy, unconscious sexuality. Polar opposite from Jake. I wondered what Jake would make of him.
“What happens when Angus does come back?” I inquired eventually.
“Is he coming back?”
The Hell You Say
43
I thought of Mrs. Tum and Lester Naess. “I hope so,” I said.
Glass stem between his fingers, Snowden gently circled the base of the glass on the linen-covered table, warming the wine. “You see, the others believe that Angus is a warlock.”
“Isn’t everybody?” That wasn’t exactly what I meant. “I mean, aren’t they all part of a coven?”
He answered me indirectly. “Warlock is the term for an oath breaker. For one who has lied or broken a pledge of silence.”
“I thought it was a male witch.”
“Partly. It would be a witch who practices the Black Arts. A witch who worships Satan.
Most modern witches are Wicca, and Wiccans don’t, you know.”
“So this group or coven is Wicca? Then I don’t understand why an inverted pentagram was painted on my doorstep.”
His brows drew together. “Inverted? Are you sure?”
I removed one of the photos from my day planner, pushed it across to Snowden. He stared at it for a long moment.
“Are you sure you talked to the right people?” I inquired, watching his expression.
His eyes veered to mine. “Certainly,” he said, but he sounded less than certain.
“What’s the Ars Goetia?” I asked.
“Where the devil --?”
I kid you not. “Where the devil,” like you’d expect to hear from Colonel Mustard in The Study. I murmured, “No pun intended?”
He stared at me, but I didn’t think he saw me. At last he said, “It’s the first section of an anonymously-written seventeenth-century grimoire known as The Lesser Key of Solomon.
Do you know what a grimoire is?”
“Book of Shadows, right?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You surprise me.”
“I had a lot of time to read as a kid.” Not that you would find a copy of the Book of Shadows in your school library -- unless you’re attending Hogwarts.
“Then you’re probably aware that the Book of Shadows is a kind of witches’ Bible, only rather more than that. It’s a personal record of rituals and spells and lore, each one unique.”
“But isn’t there a definitive Book of Shadows?”
He grimaced at this ignorance. “No. Different traditions have reclaimed and reedited the most famous source materials into their own grimoires. There are illustrious historical grimoires: The Black Pullet, The Greater Key of Solomon, The Lesser Key of Solomon.”
“So what is Ars Goetia?”
44 Josh Lanyon
“Essentially it’s the name, rank, and serial number of seventy-two demons King Solomon is said to have conjured and then imprisoned in a bronze vessel fastened with magic seals.”
“And this symbol?” I pointed to the line drawing that Ariel had told me was the signature of a high-ranking demon.
He shook his head. “It’s a sigil. A sign or seal in magic.” He glanced at me and said, “It’s a
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