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When the heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, Rose had sucked in a breath to scream, but another hand quickly covered her mouth.
“Please, don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you!”
“Derek?” Rose said as the hand on her mouth lifted slightly.
“Don’t scream?”
“Okay.” Her heart raced, but she was so thankful it wasn’t someone from the cellar room below the bridge that Rose was prepared to hear him out. She was released and turned to see the bulky janitor standing there, his face a picture of misery.
“We need to move away from here,” he said.
He had led her away from the Bethesda Terrace, up to a hilly, wooded area of Central Park called The Ramble. There, within the privacy of night and shadows, they talked.
“We needed to get away before the others came out,” Derek said.
“You were in there?” Rose asked, aghast. “You’re part of this?” She had the urge to hit him as hard as she could and run, especially after he’d creeped her out so much before. That he was part of that atrocious murder she’d seen was too much. But something in his face, some measure of shame and unmasked fear, made her pause.
“Derek, I need to know what’s going on here. I need to know how and why you’re involved.”
Derek nodded, staring the earth, his eyes as shadowed as their hiding place under the trees. “I know you don’t trust me. But I promise I’m on your side.”
“Derek–”
“You saw the pictures of Jazz in my locker.” He looked up, met her eye, and that disarmed Rose somewhat.
“I did, yes.”
“I get that maybe that’s weird. I know Jazz would never have loved me, but she was always kind to me when so few others were. I loved her, though. And isn’t it normal to have photos of people you admire? People put posters of pop stars or sports stars on their walls, even if those stars will never love them.”
He looked at Rose for some kind of validation, and she didn’t have it in her to try to explain the difference. Those stars were public figures, they made their images available, they were miles and miles away from their fans. It wasn’t the same. That was hardly the point here, and not relevant any more anyway, now that Jazz was dead. “I guess,” Rose said quietly instead, favoring Derek with a soft smile. “Tell me about what I just saw.”
“This used to be a normal coven,” Derek said. “You know, we were harmless.”
“Hidden under one of the oldest parts of New York City?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at the things that go on around this city, Rose. There are all kinds of groups and secrets and secret places. You know, there’s a whole community of people who live in the old tunnels under New York? The mole people.”
Rose nodded. “Actually, yes, I’ve read about them before. But homeless people aren’t the same as a witch coven.”
“They’re not homeless. The undercity is their home. It’s their community.”
“Okay, granted. But Derek, a coven?”
Derek pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, then he said, “There are lots of different kinds of witchcraft. Wicca is modern, some other forms are older than the Salem trials. Nothing is as simple as people like to think.”
Rose nodded again, wondering at the wisdom coming from this big, seemingly simple man. But while he lived a simple life, and seemed to be dealing with his own challenges, social and possibly cognitive, he was certainly no fool.
“Anyway, ours was one of the oldest,” Derek went on. “We practiced our rituals, and we minded our business. But then, about a year ago, a man showed up who called himself the Witchfinder. He said he’d found us through powerful magic, and had come to show us the way. Things were amazing at first.” Derek looked up, his eyes glittering in the darkness, alive with wonder. “He showed us magic that really worked. And he taught us these stories, almost prophecies. But things turned dark really fast. He told us that true power always exacts a price, and he killed a young man, right there in front of everybody. He said that was a binding act, to ensure the loyalty of the coven. Several people quit right there and then, of course. But they didn’t get far. Three of them were found dead the next day, from varying causes. A failed robbery, a street mugging, one fell onto the subway tracks, but we all know he was pushed. The others? Well, we just never saw them again. So they’re certainly dead too, aren’t they? Maybe some got away, I don’t know. But after that, everyone was afraid to leave.”
Derek paused, staring at the ground again, and Rose caught the sparkle of a falling tear. The big man’s shoulders were shuddering slightly. She reached out, put a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, Derek. We can do something about this. Tell me more.”
“Next meeting he brought in the first sacrifice. It was one of the mole people, that’s how I know all about them. I didn’t help, but I didn’t do anything about it. And it was so much worse than the first killing. He ate a part of the man’s brain, Rose! Just like he did again tonight!” A sob escaped the big man, and he put his face in his hands.
Rose let him cry for a moment, sure this was the first time he’d told anyone and he certainly needed the release. She gave him that, one hand still on his arm.
After a moment, he sat back again, taking a long shuddering breath. “I never went back, and I was ready for an attack of some kind. Always looking over my shoulder, never taking the subway. But they left me alone. I don’t think they ever really took me very seriously. Nobody does.” He shrugged, a small, pain-filled smile briefly shifting his lips. “I guess that saved me. But then Jazz started to investigate things, and she was led to the coven there. I was torn. I love her, and I wanted to protect her. But I knew I could help her too. And maybe she’d expose the Witchfinder. Jazz was so strong, so smart. I thought she could bring him down. So I told her where and when to find the coven meeting. And you know what happened.”
Derek slumped, spent, his weight of guilt and sorrow briefly passed on. Rose knew it would haunt him always, but none of it was really his fault. “Why were you there again tonight,” she asked softly.
Tears glistened in his eyes as he looked up and met her gaze. “I went there planning to kill the Witchfinder for what he’d done to Jazz.” He lifted the side of his light jacket to reveal a gun tucked into his waistband. A small pistol of some kind, dark and malevolent in the night. “But when it came down to it, I didn’t have the courage. Even as he killed another person, I couldn’t take a life, even his. I stood there, frozen, and when the poor man was dead, I knew what was coming next, and I slipped away. There’s another exit from that place, along one side, if you how to find it. That’s how I left before, and I used it again today. As I went, I glanced back and saw you hiding in the gallery. I knew I would give you away if I tried to communicate with you, so I hurried up to the bridge and waited, hoping you’d get out soon. And you did.”
Rose shook her head, mystified. She’d been so shocked at the events of the ritual, and unable to take her eyes from the horror, that she hadn’t even seen Derek slip in there, or noticed him slip away. It seemed perhaps no one had. For such a big man, it appeared Derek had a knack of moving unseen. She took his hand. “You can help us take him down. Tell me everything you know about those legends and prophecies.”