No Humans Involved

As tempting as it was to tell Gabrielle what she wanted to hear, I didn't have that right.

'What if I tell you no, and you wait for him, only to learn I was wrong? What if I say yes, and you find out later I was wrong?'

'You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Do you… do you want me to leave now?'

I shook my head. 'Walk with me, if you don't mind. I could use the company.'

AS WE neared the house, my gut started twisting again. How should I handle our parting? If I said nothing, I'd lead the other ghosts to believe that while I might not have been able to help Gabrielle, that didn't mean I wasn't willing to hear their stories. I'd spend the rest of this job with ghosts hovering about, waiting for the excuse to pop in, only to be disappointed

But what was the alternative? Tell Gabrielle to bring them all by, like serfs granted an audience with the queen, telling me their stories, begging for help I couldn't give? I couldn't find a killer. I couldn't help a still-grieving spouse find love again. I couldn't take an inheritance away from an ungrateful child. I couldn't stop an unscrupulous partner from destroying the business they'd built together. Most time's, I couldn't even deliver a simple message-at best I'd have a door slammed in my face, at worst I'd be reported for trying to scam the bereaved.

I couldn't handle listening to their pleas, knowing I'd disappoint them. Selfish maybe, but every no hurt too much.

So what should I say? 'Please tell all those other ghosts not to bother me'? How callous was that?

I tell myself that I do help-not ghosts, but the grief-stricken, with my show. But does it matter how many people I reassure if I raise the false hopes of one? By splashing myself on screen and stage, proclaiming my desire to help the grief-stricken make contact, aren't I lying to the spirits themselves? Misleading them into thinking that of all necromancers, I'm willing to help?

As we reached the drive, I turned to Gabrielle, to tell her… I didn't even know what. But when I looked, I saw only the empty sidewalk.

PART III

Five years ago, in this very room, when we first decided to escalate our search for knowledge to the highest level, we made a pact.'

She looked around the circle of faces, getting a nod from each member. There was no need to remind them what that pact had been. They were all educated and rational people. Indeed, that very rationality was what had led to the pact.

For over a decade they had searched for the secret that would unlock the arcane mysteries of the occult. It had to exist. Countless ancient texts detailing spells and rituals could not all be mere works of fancy. They were too pervasive, coming from every age, every civilization, every corner of the globe and yet, in many ways, so similar.

They'd come close several times. Even found success with minor magics. But what good was a spell that would levitate a pencil an inch? What they sought was true magic-the ability to fully control inanimate objects, the elements, human behavior, everything those old books promised.

For a long time there was one thing they'd refused to do. An ingredient they would not collect, one that many of the darkest, most obscure tomes called for. Even if that was the key, they'd find another way.

When they finally accepted that their progress had stalled-that they could go no further without help-they agreed to one human sacrifice, to reassure themselves that this wasn't the answer.

To be able to say 'we did all we could do,' they had to follow the practice most often prescribed. Not just human sacrifice, but the sacrifice of a child.

First, though, they'd needed to protect themselves against one another. They must all agree this was necessary. They must all participate. If it succeeded, they must agree that it would be repeated and that they would participate for as long as the group remained intact. Anyone who refused or changed his mind would forfeit his life.

Harsh, yes. But sound. Sharing responsibility meant sharing blame. That was the iron wall that would safeguard their secret.

And now they didn't need to know why they were being reminded. They had only to look around the circle and see who was missing.

Murray had not bounced back from his breakdown. For a while, he'd seemed fine. But he hadn't taken his share of the ash. A week later, he'd been late for a meeting. Missed a second. Withdrew from the group socially. Found excuses, made apologies. The vacation they'd insisted on had only made matters worse, as if it gave him time to dwell on his misgivings.

'Don has come to me with troubling news,' she said.

Don nodded, face grave. ' Murray has asked for a job transfer. Out of state.'

A murmur of alarm.

'He didn't tell me directly,' Don continued, 'but when I stopped by his house to speak to him last week, I saw Realtor business cards on his table, and overheard him on a call to his firm's Rhode Island office.'

'Should we…?' Brian swallowed, as if his throat had gone too dry to continue. 'Should we wait and see how it plays out, in case he changes his mind?'

She felt a twinge of annoyance, but reminded herself that this was the first time their pact had been tested. They were still civilized beings, capable of considering all options and allowing the possibility of mercy. So she nodded to Tina, ceding the floor to the psychologist.

Tina shook her head. 'The only way to change his mind would be to remind him of the pact. To threaten him.'

Brian shuffled, clearly uncomfortable with the option. As he should be-they weren't be thugs.

'And even if we resort to threats, given Murray 's personality, he will pretend to acquiesce, but inwardly become more resolved to leave the group. He will cover his tracks better, so we can't find him. If cornered he'll be more likely to betray us.

She let Tina's words settle over the room. Waited for everyone to absorb the idea. Give them the chance to question it. Then, when no one did, she said, slowly and carefully, 'Are we agreed?'

They were.

MURRAY CAME to the next meeting, and they'd done what needed to be done. Now the others were gone and his corpse lay on the gurney. She and Don would dispose of it. There was no need to involve the entire group in that process-and safer if they didn't. Take part in the killing, yes. Know where to find the body? No.

Don was examining Murray 's naked body as if it were nothing more than a medical school cadaver.

'He's a lot bigger than that teenager,' he mused. 'I'd suggest removing the limbs and head and disposing of them as we did the boy-in garbage bags.'

She agreed.

He glanced from his tools to the small oven, then over at her.

'Waste not, want not,' she said. 'The others don't need to know. It will be an excellent way to conduct a blind test of the effectiveness of adult material.'

He nodded and lifted his scalpel.

THE EHRICH WEISS SOCIETY

AT FIVE-THIRT, I WAS BACK IN L.A. with Jeremy, walking to yet another office building, this one in a far