Page 41 of The District

Rotating her arm outward, she said, “The tattoo is the perfect touch, don’t you agree?”

“Looks like it belongs there permanently.” He took her untattooed arm. “It’s showtime.”

They took a taxi to The Lower Haight where the crowds were thinner, the Victorians shabbier and the transients more aggressive. They had the driver drop them off up the street from the meeting address, and Eric kept feeling for his nonexistent weapon. He felt naked without it, but he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of the coven’s meeting for packing heat.

They reached the location of the meeting, a run-down union   hall, which didn’t much look like sacred ground. An unofficial welcoming committee greeted them at the door.

A middle-aged woman, who looked nothing like a witch in her mom jeans and cardigan, eked out a tight smile. “Newcomers?”

As soon as they walked through the doors, Christina’s knees weakened and trembled, and her heart started racing. Her feet felt rooted to the floor.

Eric shot her a curious glance, and then draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against him. “We’re visiting from New Mexico and saw the meeting notice at Kindred Spirits. Is this a West Coast meeting?”

The woman’s eyes darted toward her companion, a young man with small sharp teeth. Now he could be a witch.

He pulled a white handkerchief out of his sleeve and dabbed his nose. “Bay Area coven.”

Christina reached up to pull her hair back from her face, flashing her tattooed wrist. “We like to check in with other covens when we travel.”

The effect of the tattoo was immediate. Both sets of eyes glommed on to the symbol, following the movement of Christina’s hand.

“You made it.” A familiar voice called from across the room and Nigel, dressed all in black for the occasion, limped across the floor, his hand outstretched.

Eric shook his hand and squeezed it hard. If Nigel blabbed about the FBI, it would be all over.

“Do you know them, Nigel?” The woman narrowed her eyes, still focused on Christina’s tattoo.

“I met them in Libby’s place. We had a chat, and this young lady’s the real deal, unlike yours truly.”

Eric finally released the older man’s bony hand. “Like I said, we saw the meeting notice at Libby’s and decided to check out the meeting. I hope that’s okay. We haven’t had any problems anywhere else.”

The man with the bat teeth nodded. “No problem, hombre.”

As they walked across the floor to a table laden with refreshments, Eric murmured, “For a minute there I thought you were going to blow our cover.”

Nigel put his finger to his lips and studied the plates of cookies before choosing an oatmeal raisin. “I may have screamed ‘down with the pigs’ in my younger days, Brody, but sometimes authority is a force for good.”

“Only sometimes?” Christina picked up a chunky brown cookie and sniffed it. “Are you sure nothing here is laced with anything?”

Nigel stretched his thin lips into a grin. “Didn’t you notice the fruit punch? There are no mind-altering drugs, including alcohol, allowed at the meetings. That cookie you’re holding may have some kind of grass cooked into it, but not the kind you’re thinking.”

She broke the cookie in half and large crumbs dropped to the table. “This definitely is not my thing. I’m going to grab one of those brownies with the cream cheese frosting on top. Do you want the healthy vegan cookie, Eric?”

“No, thanks. You touched it, broke it apart and sniffed it. You’d better not put it back on the plate.”

“Ha, that’s something that Ken...” She dropped the cookie on the floor and bent over to sweep it up with a napkin. “That’s something a kid would do.”

Eric pointed to the black smudges that stained a huge area of the scuffed floor. “This building ever catch on fire?”

Nigel stirred sugar into his coffee. “This union   hall was built on hallowed ground. At the height of the flower power movement here in the Haight-Ashbury district, witches would come to this building to cast spells and work powerful magic with incantations and ceremonies.”

Christina shivered. Maybe that’s why she’d felt the air being sucked out of her lungs when she’d walked through those doors.

The woman who had been guarding the entrance tapped on the microphone at the front of the room. “We’re going to get started in a few minutes. If you haven’t partaken of the refreshments, please do so. They’re all home-baked by our Bay Area members.”

Christina crumpled the napkin with the broken cookie in it and whispered to Eric, “Doesn’t mean they’re good.”

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