Bridget appeared less than thrilled to see us again. Kasmira-dressed in a black-full length peasant dress-watched silently from behind the cash register.
Plywood boards still covered the broken windows of Trismegistos. Wide strips of masking tape held gray chipboard in place over holes in the glass counters.
'Things have been rough, haven't they?' Ann said.
A pile of damaged merchandise lay on a card table. A sign hung from it, reading,
THE
'WE DIDN'T EXPECT THE SPANISH INQUISITION'
SALE-
ALL RED TAGGED ITEMS HALF PRICE!
Bridget looked at me with poorly veiled unease. 'I gave you your damned message,' she said. 'What more do you want?'
'Your help.'
'Help in what? Your wild-gander chase? That insane advertising of yours?'
I bit the inside of my cheek, glancing over at Ann. She merely rolled her icy blues.
, I thought-
'We need a spell,' she said. 'A powerful spell. You have the knowledge. You have the power. Please help us.' She reached out to touch the old woman's arm. Her frigid eyes warmed to pools of imploring dewiness. The angel really knew how to lay it on.
Bridget sighed miserably. 'It's useless to fight. He has the whole world in His grip. Our influence is dying, crumbling.' She shook her aged head. 'Those few of us who have held on for so long have seen the light grow dimmer year by year, age by age. Perhaps this millennium
the Equinox of the Gods.'
'No,' Ann said, 'I refuse to let that happen.' Ann clasped the crone's arm tightly, her eyes narrowing with fierce intensity. 'There comes a time to strike back with all the force we can raise. Six thousand years is enough time to spend enduring the whip and the rope and the flame. It's enough time spent hiding in the shadows, afraid to speak our truths. It's too much time lost in forgetting that
love is greater than his hate.'
Ann released her grip. Bridget turned away.
'It
the Equinox of the Gods,' Ann said. 'His solstice is long past. Do you want to see him enthroned again for another twenty centuries?'
'I'm too old,' she said as softly as a vanquished warrior.
'That is
speaking. He and his hatred of change through time.' Ann touched the old woman again. 'Your age is your wisdom. You lifetime is your strength.'
'Words,' Bridget said, leaning weakly against the counter behind her.
'Words of truth. Words of magic.
words.'
Bridget merely lowered her head, shaking it.
Ann looked helplessly in my direction.
