Jena parked her Bug outside the Elspeth County Hospital. She clocked in and went to her assigned station. Tonight was one of her "special nights"; as a member of the coven that worked the hospital, she occasionally had to track down certain patients and look at their charts. This would be one of those times: Just last night Melissa Ortega, a member of the coven, had been admitted. According to her charts, Melissa should make a total recovery, at least physically; she had suffered a few minor abrasions but was otherwise unharmed. Shame about Jimmy; he had been a good kid. The investigator would be getting a lot of "mysterious" help.

But she had also snuck a peek at the file of the other admittee. Peter Stonehound. Not old enough to drink, he had been struck down almost as an afterthought. Physically, he would recover, but he was currently comatose. It would be a shame if he died; one death that night was more than enough. On her break, she was able to look in on him to see how he was doing. She grabbed a couple of his hairs for possible use later; if she needed more she knew where he was.

The rest of her shift went fast. There was the usual number of emergencies, but nothing out of the ordinary. She left Elspeth with a smile on her face; she knew what she had to do to save poor Peter.

* * * * *

Percival let the hot water pour over his body. Roderick joined him, starting with the usual tracing of the tattooed wings on Percival's back followed by a quick embrace. They tenderly washed each other, quitting the shower when the water finally started getting cold. After some standard appearance maintenance, the two retired to the bed. Percival turned on his laptop so he could do some quick research while Roderick brought in some bowls of oatmeal. He put the bowls down and then opened the curtains, letting the morning light into the room.

Roderick grabbed his bowl. "Must be an interesting case."

Percival smiled as the smell of the oatmeal with its maple syrup hit him. "So far. I may even have to bug Tomasz. These runes look interesting."

Roderick spun his spoon around the oatmeal. "Must be if you're ignoring your oatmeal."

Percival put the laptop down and grabbed his bowl. "Guess I need to fuel the body to keep the mind active." He finished the bowl in just a few short minutes.

"So...what did you have planned for the rest of the morning?"

Roderick grabbed both bowls and moved them to the nightstand. He got up. "I may have an idea or two." He let his towel drop.

Percival looked him up and down appreciatively. "I like where this is going. Tell me more."

Roderick smiled as he moved towards Percival. They would be headed towards the shower again an hour later.

* * * * *

Jena got home, put her coat on the stand, and then changed into jeans and a sweater. She walked over to her library and, after debating exactly which book she needed, pulled out a thick book bound in leather labeled "Approaches in Noetic Communication". She put the book in her chair and grabbed a cup of coffee. In minutes she had disappeared into the book; if her apartment had been attacked she wouldn't have noticed.

She needed to communicate with a comatose person, and the noosphere was exactly what was called for. A middle ground of pure ideas, it was the third sphere of human activity and the one where the rational part of humanity could be found. She needed to traverse the area where Stonehound's mind held sway and then interact with him there. After catching up on the basics, she then looked around at how witches had used that area.

Over the next couple of hours, a pile of books had begun to build as she cobbled together a potential spell using the sympathetic aura of the hairs she had harvested to link to him, some meditative yoga to approach the Akashic Record to act as the middle ground, and then some practical noeticism to bring it all together. She made some notes in her three-subject notebook and smiled. Okay, this looks like it could work. She put the notebook down and headed to her workshop to grab a few things.

She grabbed her notebook and headed to the kitchen with it and the two shakers she had grabbed from the workshop. She started grinding the hairs, then combined them with some agate dust and finished it off with peyote powder. After jotting down the shopping list to grab some more peyote powder, she shook the powder into a bowl. She debated the liquid, and knowing not to mix alcohol with the peyote ever again, she grabbed some bottled water and poured it into the bowl.

While the water energized the powder, she walked the bowl over to her pentagram. She had burned the pentagram into the wooden floor. She put the bowl down just inside the pentagram and went down into a lotus position. She said a few words of Latin and then swallowed the liquid. She then chanted the Latin, concentrating on every syllable as a mantra. Within moments the potion took effect and she found herself outside a Shaolin temple inside a glowing cloud. She walked up to the door and pulled the ring.

* * * * *

The SUV of the sheriff sat outside the Stumble In Waffle House. With the bar next to it and two others within half a block, it was easy to see why the owner of the cafe named it that way. Inside, Sheriff Ann and Percival were enjoying lunch, her with a Cobb salad and him with a country-fried steak. They were debating the case between bites.

"I've got to say, it has been a pleasure to go through your notes. Wish I had the time for such thoroughness."

Percival was cutting through his steak. "Sort of necessary when knowing if a branch is ash or yew can tell you who did something and even why."

She poked at her tomatoes. "There doesn't seem to be a pattern between the victims from our end. Three males, and three females, all of the different social statuses. They ran in some of the same circles, but this is also a small town; it's not like they had a choice."

Percival stabbed at the piece he had just cut off. "It gets a little more interesting from my side, but not much. The two victims were a witch and a warlock, and one of yours was a hedge witch."

"A hedgewitch?"

"Yeah, she practiced spellcraft, but strictly from books. More of a hobbyist than a future coven member." He bit down on the piece.

She stabbed the tomato wedge. "That still makes her supernatural related. She was also the first. Based on dates, that would give us a pattern of some sort."

"True. A supernatural followed by a normal. Which makes me wonder about the young witch."

She stared at the tomato. "So the boy wasn't a supernatural?"

He smiled. "Nah. He was just a warlock; while he may have been present at some of the rituals, he was there more for, well, support than casting spells. He had just started training."

She chomped on the tomato. "Okay."

He dove back into food. "It looks like she just happened to be there when he was taken. She had just fought with her parents. She needed somewhere to get away from them, and he was her boyfriend. It explains why he didn't look prepared to hold her more than just gagging her and tying her up."

She tossed her salad with her fork. "Think he would have held her until he needed her?"

Percival straightened up. "Yeah. And that's a good point, actually. Based on the dates, he would have been due for another kill in about two weeks. He seemed to be focused on the waxing gibbous and waning crescent." He relaxed. "I'm waiting for an email to confirm the symbolism."

"That struck me as odd as well. But I'm going off the stereotype of the full moon/new moon thing." She smiled.

He glared at her and she stopped smiling. "Still, that is some weird timing. It should be interesting to see what the symbolism is."

She stabbed a piece of chicken. "Think he's working alone? It feels like it, but I would hate to see an actual cult at work."

He smiled. "Based on the impromptu nature of her capture, yeah, he's working alone. If he had been working with someone we would have seen more tracks. He was the only one there besides the victims."

She pulled out the chicken. "Well, that's good. It limits the people we're looking for and eliminates potential screens."

He cut through another piece of steak. "Yep. With no support, it's just him." He stabbed at the piece. "Oh, and it is a 'him': The tracks we saw would confirm that it was a male, about 5'9" and 180 pounds. Sorta average. But at least he's left-handed, based on the knots."

She bit down on the chicken. "At least that's something. I'm guessing he's also some sort of spellcaster but unaffiliated with the other groups. That's another limiter, I'm hoping."

He moved the steak to his mouth. "Yep. I just wish I could nail down his specific style. But again, I'm waiting for an email on that one as well."

She swallowed. "At least he's being consistent about what he's doing. His interest in human sacrifice should help limit it, as well as the specific form of destroying the body."

He smiled. "Just how many of these cases do you see a year, anyway?"

She grinned back. "If you're the sheriff of a town where people actually use magic, more than most, I would assume."

They shifted the conversation to small talk and soon finished their lunch. She picked up the check. This time.