Chapter 8

The hospital was in full swing when Horatio walked in and up to the receptionist's desk. A black haired secretary looked up from her computer terminal to greet him with a frighteningly friendly smile. "Hi there," she said. "How may I help you today?"

"Miami-Dade police," said Horatio, showing her his badge. "Horatio Caine. I'm looking for Ronnie Briggs."

"Oh! You're the cop who showed up with that girl a couple of minutes ago!" The woman's smile dropped when Horatio continued to stare at her. She said, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but Doctor Briggs is on a conference call in Orlando and he won't be back until midnight. I can leave a message for him if you like." Her voice trembled at the last sentence.

Horatio stared at the girl. Something about her mannerism struck him as being a tad bit nervous, as if she was hiding something. She might be covering for Briggs, he thought.

"Is he really on a conference call?" he asked, "or is he just hiding in his office waiting for his next chance to try murder again?"

The secretary looked horrified. "Lieutenant Caine!" she gasped in repulsion. "I'll have you know that Ronnie Briggs is one of the most talented and respected doctors in the field of medicine! He would never kill somebody!"

"So you're just covering for him, right?" asked Horatio and the woman turned away slightly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Then you won't mind coming with me to the station to answer a few questions then, won't you?" Horatio asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The secretary, Marianne Collins, shook her head. "I don't know anything about that," she said defensively. "I just heard about that stuff on the news. Ronnie is a good person…he would never try to kill someone just because the person practices…unholy stuff."

"So you think Wicca is 'unholy'?" asked Horatio.

"Please, Lieutenant, who doesn't think it's evil?" returned Marianne. "You've heard about it lately on the news dealing with Wiccan veterans wanting to put the pentagram on their gravestones. It's disgusting. It's like putting up bulletin boards saying that worshipping Satan is OK."

"Wicca is a recognized religion," remarked Eric.

"Well it shouldn't be. It's harmful and evil," Marianne answered.

"Did Doctor Briggs tell you all this?" Horatio asked. "Just so he can cover his tracks?" She glared at him.

"Did that slimeball Jared put you up to this?" she asked angrily.

"Jared is doing quite a lot of talking, Marianne," replied Horatio. "And he has just told us that Doctor Briggs is responsible for the attempts on Belladonna Llewellyn's life."

"That lying piece of trash," hissed Marianne. "Do yourself a favor, Lieutenant Caine…don't listen to him. He's trying to get back at Ronnie for something, that's all. Maybe you should ask him if he's this so-called 'Witch-hunter' and leave Doctor Briggs alone."

"Well that's not going to do any good for Ronnie," said Eric, showing her a photo of a pocketknife with Belladonna's blood on the blade. "Because we just found his prints on the pocketknife used to slash Belladonna's wrists open."

Marianne's facial expression became darker as she glared at Horatio. "If you had just left her there to die," she said, "Ronnie would have succeeded in his plans. That little witch is ruining everything…his business is going down the toilet and everyone else is going up the food chain. Now he has to start all over again."

"Where is he, Marianne?" asked Horatio firmly.

"I'm not saying a thing," snapped Marianne, crossing her arms over her chest. "Go on ahead, Lieutenant, throw me in jail. But you can't stop Ronnie from killing that witch."

"Oh, but I do tend to stop him, Marianne," replied Horatio coldly. "That's my job after all…"

She said nothing, just scowled.

"Take her out of here," said Horatio and two officers escorted her out of the room. Eric looked at him.

"So if Ronnie Briggs is the Witch-hunter, H," he asked, "how can we get to him?"

Horatio looked in the direction of his office, where he could see Belladonna there, staring back at him.

"We trust in faith, Eric," he said. "It's still Samhain after all…anything can happen."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As he stood in the living room of Belladonna's home, Horatio felt for the first time at total peace with the world. A vintage crystal candlelier hung from the ceiling and the room was full of soft candlelight, bathing the paintings of Celtic goddesses that she hung on her walls in dim illumination. The scent of jasmine incense hung lightly in the air, and the whole room felt warm and loving.

"I hope I've not kept you waiting," said her voice behind him.

When he turned around his heart literally stopped at the sight of her. She was dressed in a figure-hugging long dress that made her look like she was wrapped up in blooms of fire, the crisscross spaghetti straps and the sequined bodice making her look elfin and intoxicatingly dangerous at the same time. Her hair was pulled up into a French braid, sparkles brushed lightly against her face and around her neck she wore a heart pendant made of amber that glowed softly in the light.

"You look beautiful," said Horatio, completely spellbound.

She smiled. "And you're so handsome," she replied as she waltzed to the stereo and turned it on. She looked at him. "You sure you want to do this?" she asked.

"Of course I do," he replied.

She took out a CD and placed it into the stereo. "Tonight's selection," she said, "will be Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Alan Parsons Project. As it is Samhain, I figured it would be a worthy choice."

The music stared playing as Horatio took her into his arms for the dance. The song was sweet and almost dreamlike as they swayed to the music, enjoying the feel of each other's touch and of being secure. As the faraway sounds gave way to darker forms of sliding guitar and thumping bass line, Horatio asked her, "And this is…?"

"Still the first song," she said back grinning up at him. "In a couple of minutes they'll be doing their version of Poe's 'The Raven'. That's what I love about this group…they're very inventive."

"Oh." Horatio grew quiet, just listening to the music, listening to Belladonna's soft breathing, enjoying the softness of her and the scent of sandalwood drifting from her skin. This, he figured, was what life could be about…slowing down, enjoying music and the company of the love of your life. And it felt really, really good.

The next song began to play.

"Horatio?"

"Yes?"

"I just want to thank you…for all that you've done for me. I know that you probably hear this all the time but I just…wanted you to know."

"It's nothing, Belladonna, really."

"It is to me," she whispered.

The music abruptly cut off. "Aw, how sweet," sneered a familiar voice from the corner of the room. They broke apart and Horatio already had his gun drawn as Ronnie Briggs stepped out of the shadows, himself holding a gun and pointing it directly at Belladonna. He smiled at Horatio.

"I underestimated you, Caine," he said venomously. "I didn't realize how brilliant you are. And you Miss Llewellyn…" He glared at Belladonna, how stood behind Horatio. "…I never knew how clever you were, snaring the legendary Horatio Caine into one of your traps. This is one of your spells, isn't it?"

"Ronnie, put the gun down," said Horatio and Briggs laughed.

"Why the hell should I?" he asked cocking the gun. "There's just one last thing I need to do, Caine…and that's killing the witch."

"You can kill me, Ronnie," said Belladonna softly, "but it will come back to you time three and I know you don't want that…"

"Shut up!" screamed Briggs as he slowly advanced. "Your days of casting spells over my practice is over, Belladonna, you get that? And the brave lieutenant" – He glared at Horatio – "will not be able to save you."

"Ronnie," repeated Horatio, "do not advance."

"What are you going to do, Caine?" snarled Briggs. "Kill me? Kill the good doctor who saved her life? That would be a stain on your record wouldn't it?"

The air suddenly became filled with a lavender scented perfume.

Horatio looked straight into Briggs' demented eyes and offered him his final warning: "Ronnie, do not make me do this."

Ronnie lowered the gun, seemingly confused for a moment over the new scent in the room. Then he looked at Belladonna and raised the gun, finger on the trigger.

He never got a chance. Horatio pulled the trigger on his gun first and the bullet struck Ronnie directly in the shoulder. He screamed and went down, writhing in pain. The sound of gunfire echoed through the house.

Horatio stood over him, pointing his gun menacingly at Briggs. "Do not move," he said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the paramedics were loading Briggs onto a stretcher to take him to the hospital, Horatio and Belladonna stood together in the living room. The stereo was playing Alan Parsons Project again, and the lavender smell disappeared.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"My mother came to protect me," answered Belladonna, looping her arm around Horatio's waist. "She was always like that before she died. This was the last thing she wanted to do for me before she went back home."

"Where's home for her?"

"The Summerland." Belladonna smiled up at him. "This turned out to be quite a Samhain for you, didn't it Horatio?"

He chuckled softly. "You have no idea," he said.