Death of an Adept

Raeburn arched a supercilious eyebrow before lifting the photos to read the first few lines of the resume.

"Surely you're jesting," he said.

"There's more. The family history will bear out what I propose. Just read it before you say anything else."

Lips pressed together in a prim, poisonous smirk, Raeburn set the photos aside and began to read. As he scanned subsequent pages, his brow cleared, his expression slowly shifting from sour indulgence to surprised but increasingly avid concurrence, then changing to startled rejection which, after further reading, gave way to thoughtful deliberation.

"How did you come by this information?" he finally asked, leafing back through the previous pages.

"My methods are my own affair," she said with a tight smile. "Suffice it to say that I went to considerable trouble and personal expense to obtain what's in that folder. Don't squander it."

The feral smile he finally lifted to her held a gleam of cunning far more malevolent than any earlier outburst of anger.

"Angela, my darling," he purred. "Sometimes I almost think I do love you."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I was brought up in the Episcopal church," Julia said. "I've read the Bible more than once, and thought I understood its teachings concerning the conflicts of good and evil. But I see now what a naive assumption that was. Up until the other night, I simply had no idea what real evil was like - or how terrifying it could be."

These observations were directed at Philippa. The two of them were taking tea together in the little upstairs parlor known as the Rose Room. Philippa poured herself another cup of her favorite Earl Grey tea from the hand-painted Sevres teapot which she liked to use for intimate occasions, glancing at Julia as she stirred in milk and sugar.

"You don't have to be ashamed of yourself for being unprepared," she said pragmatically, after taking a sip of the fragrant blend. "No sane person wants to know any more about evil than he or she has to. And don't make the mistake of confusing innocence with weakness. However frightened you might have been at the time, you acquitted yourself bravely when it counted - and have continued to do so, ever since."

Three days had passed since the sinister incident involving the Hand of Glory. Once the initial shock had worn off, Julia had insisted on returning to the gate lodge, firmly vetoing Peregrine's suggestion that she take up temporary residence with her uncle in Dunfermline.

Seeing that his wife was resolved to stand her ground, Peregrine had revised his schedule to enable him work at home as much of the time as possible. When his absence was unavoidable - as today, when he was doing a live sitting with a client up in Perth - Julia had consented to repair to the greater security of the main house, where she could count on having Philippa and the staff for company.

Declining Philippa's unspoken offer of a scone, Julia pulled a rueful grimace. "It's this sense of being completely out of my depth that bothers me," she sighed. "I don't know when I've ever felt smaller or more insignificant."

"Why is that?" Philippa asked.

Julia struggled for the words to express herself. "I suppose it's the realization that Creation itself is a lot more complicated than I ever previously imagined. The malice that went into making that thing you called the Hand of Glory was more than human - it was positively devilish. I know Scripture warns about there being forces of evil at work in the world, but I guess it never occurred to me to take those warnings literally in the context of the present day."

"On the contrary, those warnings were never more applicable than they are at present," Philippa said quite seriously. "It's one of the unfortunate side effects of modern-day materialism that a great many people have gotten complacent and allowed their spiritual defenses to slip. Certainly, we have legitimate cause to be afraid; the forces of evil are real, and they attack under many different guises. On the other hand, if you allow your judgement to be clouded by panic, you end up blaming all the wrong people."

"How does anyone tell the difference?" Julia wondered.

"Through an effort of discernment," Philippa replied. "Why else do you think we're commanded to love God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength, if we weren't intended to use all these faculties in seeking enlightenment?

"As for combating evil," she continued, "take comfort from the knowledge that we are not alone in the struggle. Where there are devils, there are also angels. And help is always available to those who aren't too proud to ask for it."

She put as much conviction as she could into this assertion, for she had an uneasy premonition that all of them were going to have to do their best to protect themselves and one another in the days to come.