By Justin Gustainis
Supernatural investigator Quincey Morris and his associate, white witch Libby Chastain, are referred to as in to assist loose a determined relations from a perilous curse that looks to this point again to the Salem Witch Trials. To liberate the kin from chance they have to locate the foundation of the curse, a black witch with a bad grudge that holds the relations in her power.
The pursuit takes them to the mysterious underworlds of Boston, San Francisco, New Orleans and manhattan, stalking a prey that's decided to stick hidden. After surviving a chain of terrifying makes an attempt on their lives, the 2 locate themselves drawn inexorably in the direction of Salem itself and the very middle of darkness.
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The Devil—or, I should say, the Goddess—lives in the details. " Libby thought for a moment. "What was the name of that old fraud in Cleveland? " There was amusement in her voice. "Mother Josephine," Susan said. " Libby studied the other woman for a moment. "You know, Susan, I sometimes wonder what the other folks at the Society for the Advancement of Rational Thought would say if they . " "You're down on the books as a 'consultant,'" Susan said with a shrug. " She fiddled with the latches on her briefcase for a moment.
Libby held her hands, palms down, an inch or so over the flame. "Benedic Domine creaturam istam ignis," she chanted. "Clarifica in me hodierno die, licet igno filio tuo…" Morris knew enough Latin so that he could have followed what she was saying, but his attention was distracted by the crashing impacts, behind him, each one a blow from a giant's fist. Every collision was bringing splinters and plaster dust down on them now, and he figured the door was good for another minute, tops. Morris wondered whether he possessed enough grit to throw himself on top of Libby when the door went down.
Fenton didn't sound angry any more, just interested. Van Dreenan made a head gesture toward the desktop. "We have both read the files, ja? And seen the photos. " Fenton didn't have to consult the files. " "Hard to say for sure. The people who discovered the crime scenes tended to walk all over them before the police got there. " "So, we have no symbolism, nothing burned, and the bare minimum of people necessary to do the deed. " Fenton shook his head in frustration. " For the first time since he'd started talking, Van Dreenan seemed to hesitate.