Bell, book, and murder by Edghill Rosemary

Author:Edghill, Rosemary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bast (Fictitious character), Women detectives, Witches, Detective and mystery stories, American, Occult fiction, American
Publisher: New York : Forge
Published: 1998-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

the store was open—the Snake's hours tend to be rather whimsical. I passed under the neon sign, slid around the blessedly silent Elvis jukebox (it was blocking the doorway even more than usual), and walked in. As far as the naked eye could see, the place was deserted.

The shop smelled resinously of burned incense; a haze of frankincense hung in the air like a set-dressing special effect. I looked around and spotted the source in front of the Snake's ecumeni-altar, the one that started life as a birdbath that'd had a heavy date with Primavera. The shell part is usually full of pennies (this being a retail establishment) or flowers. Today it was full of hot charcoal and about half a pound of expensive resin busily transforming itself into blue smoke. I went on, past the case full of crystal balls and ancient Egyptian meteorites and genuine Lady of the Lake chalices. The Siege Perilous was deserted, and something about that nagged at me, even in my current preoccupied state.

I had the growing conviction that I was being led down the garden path, round Robin Hood's bam, and up to a conclusion I was supposed to jump to without understanding. In short, 1 had the feeling that my subconscious mind knew what was going on and 1 didn't.

I hate that.

I was halfway down the right aisle when I saw the secret bookcase swing out. I nipped around the end of the rack and surprised Julian coming out of the back room. He had an open book in one hand and looked like a pensive divine. He glanced up and saw me. The comers of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly.

"1 suppose you know why I'm here," I said, which was not what I'd meant to say.

"You've come to see our new look?" Julian said blaindly.

I looked appropriately puzzled. The bag on my shoulder was getting heavier. Julian watched me not get it, and finally explained.

"Somebody tried to break into the Snake last night," he said.

Religious tolerance and the gentle art of minding one's own business being what they are, the Snake receives an average of one editorial declaration per week from people who just can't bear its existence one moment longer. More, if you count the phone threats.

These declarations range from pamphlets advocating the religion of your choice stuffed in the door, to bricks and bullets aimed

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