Lance leaned over Allison's shoulder.
"According to the Wicce Compendium, it's a witch symbol. It looks like an upside down triangle with an X across it? I think it is a symbol for war." Napoleon said over the headset. Lance swiped a bit of the nearest edges, he tasted it. He spat.
"Tastes like lead, newt's eye, and nightshade."
"That's definately a witch formula. And, Lance, there are other ways to test the components of witch symbols."
A Los Angeles detective, Clark, edged over.
"And what, uh, what department are you guys from again?" He looked first at Lance then at the symbol on the brick wall.
"DPIR." Lance flashed the officer his badge, "Cpt. Paranormal Investigator Lance DeMoi at your service. And this is my partner, Sgt. King." They shook hands. The detective stared uneasily at Lance's right eye, which was green and glowed gently.
"May we see the victim, Detective?" Allison asked. He nodded and lead them to the ambulance. Lance and Allison folded back the white covering: the dead actress was popular during her life.
"No signs of external or internal wounds or injuries, no poisons, or drugs it appears, I don'-" The detective was saying, Lance cut him off.
"It was either a spell or a rare black magic poison. We're dealing with a witch orchastrated murder here, Officer."
Clark pushed his glasses up his nose.
"A spell? Really? Chief wasn't lying, this murder is weird."
"Was the victim, the actress, involved in anything unusual?" Asked Allison as they walked into the house. The inspector thought for a moment.
"Yes, I think so. Kimberly was involved in a large variety of clubs and organizations."
Lance and Allison surveyed the place where the body was found and any questionable items.
"Mind if we look about?" Lance asked. The detective glanced over to his superior, who nodded his consent.
"Yes, you may." The three of them walked through the actress's mansion: past large, richly decorated lounges, an enormous kitchen, in which Kimberly's caretakers were being questioned by police, and other such gilded rooms. Lance scanned the walls, floor and ceiling with his magic eye for any hidden doors or rooms. He stopped outside her bedroom.
"In there. There's a hidden trap door, it leads down into the basement." They entered, passed the investigators searching the room and tried open the little door. It was tightly sealed. Lance brought his heel smashing down on the wood planks; the broken door fell down the shaft, he leapt down onto the ladder. Bianca and Clark followed. The ladder lead them down into a crawl space, separated from the rest of the mansion by thick, concrete walls. Lance and Bianca looked around the room: it was filled with, large, leather bound books, cauldrons, voodoo dolls and bone implements.
"Looks like like little Miss Pretty was a bride of Satan." Lance said, his right eye scanning the chests and drawers.
Biance threw an arm in front of Clark and Lance. "Wait. I sense someone, or rather, something."
Clark whispered, "How?" Bianca tapped her head with a finger.
"Telepath."
Bianca then motioned Lance toward a small door in the wall, they both drew guns loaded with silver bullets. Lance kicked open the little door, gun at the ready. A black shape flew out of the compartment beyond, but both Bianca and Lance fired. The cat familiar flew against the wall as the force of the bullets hit it; Lance stopped over and picked the wounded animal off the ground.
"Name." Lance demanded of the familiar. The large black cat quivered, Lance shook it violently.
"Bartholemew!" The demon whined.
"That's better. So the famed actress Kimberly was witch. Why?"
Bartholemew whimpered.
"She, my mistress, joined a club, the Five Star Nightclub. After proving her devotion my mistress was allowed into the inner circles of the Five Stars. There, in a ritual, she was vested with eldritch powers from the Mistress. But my master grew afraid of the Club, so she was going to talk to the authorities. Now the Mistress couldn't allow that, so she had my master killed."
Lance nodded, "Good. Now where are the headquarters of the Five Stars?"
The demon whimpered again.
"They're gone now, it's almost the Winter Solstice, they're going to the Witchmeet."
"Where is the Witchmeet?" Bianca asked. The DPIR had been searching for the site of the Witchmeet for years.
"Where the Wizendmeet is." The demon managed a small sneer. Lance smashed it upside the head with his gun.
"And where's the Wizendmeet?"
"Ireland! It's at Ireland! But first they'll be going to Salem" Bartholemew gasped.
"Thank you." Lance said politely. He threw the demon against the opposite wall and shot it dead.
"All right then. Bianca, call Richard, we're going to Salem." Lance told Bianca as he holstered his gun and walked toward the ladder.
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