Suddenly, at Samhain  

 General. Holiday. When my friend Katherine Fox asked me what my
co-religionists and I actually do at Samhain, I started thinking about
what we did last year. Then I wondered--what would it have been like if
our favorite characters from Alliance had been present? And when my friend
Angela Rivieccio E-mailed me that she wished Ray had been one of the
players in my last story, "Showdown in Chicago," I started doodling this
little tale that seems to tie it all together. So for Kat, and Angela, and
all the many Ray fans out there, this is for you and you and you. 

 

 Suddenly, at Samhain 

 by 

 Diana Read

  "I don't see why you're being so cagey, Fraser. What could you possibly
be doing on Halloween that's such a secret?" 

 Vecchio leaned back in his chair and looked at the Mountie, who stood in
front of Ray's desk, holding his Stetson, inscrutable as always. Fraser
raised an eyebrow. 

 "Ray, I'd be happy to include you in my plans for that evening, but I'm
afraid you'd be offended. It's a religious ceremony, and, ah--it's not
your religion." 

 "So? I'm as broad-minded as the next guy." Ray grinned. "I've got broads
on my mind all the time." 

 Fraser blinked. "Well, there will be plenty of women present. In fact,
the ritual will be conducted by a woman." 

 "A woman priest? What kinda religion is this--one of those
granola-crunching, tree-hugging, Goddess-worshipping--" 

 "--exactly. Well, I'd be delighted to take you along, if you'd like to be
an observer. You don't have to participate, you know, but you would just
have to keep quiet while the rest of us go through the ritual. I mean, you
can't start objecting to things after we get there." 

 "No problem. I'm not doing anything else that night. And anyway, Fraser,
I didn't object to the sweat lodge, did I? I actually kinda enjoyed it. So
did Louise, if memory serves me correctly." 

 Ray got up, went around the corner of his desk, and gave Fraser a
friendly punch on the shoulder. "You underestimate the extent of my
tolerance, Benny. C'mon, let's go grab some lunch." 

  * * * * * * * * * 

 "This thing's outdoors in the dark? We're not gonna be in some nice, warm
building with this woman priest and all those other broads you talked
about?" 

 "I'm afraid not, Ray. Look, here's the entrance to Four Quarters farm." 

 Vecchio slowed the Riv as Fraser switched on the flashlight to check the
map in his hand. "Right, here's the farm and there should be a gravel
parking area to the left, inside the gate." 

 "Yeah, here we are. Look, there's someone waving us in. Hey,
Dief--wouldja stop panting in my ear? We'll let you out of the car in just
a minute." 

 After Ray parked the car, they got out, locking the doors behind them,
and approached the gate. Ray stopped to peer at a piece of paper nailed to
the wooden slats. "Fraser--what's the word on this sign?" 

 "Samhain, Ray. We're attending a Samhain ritual tonight." 

 "Well, if it's spelled Sam Hane, why're you pronouncing it like it rhymes
with wowin'?" 

 "That's just the way it is, Ray. Think about how the word 'Leftenant' is
spelled, for instance. If you were going back to the roots of that word,
it would be the French word 'lieu' for place--" 

 "Okay, okay, Fraser, I get the idea. Nothin's gonna make sense tonight.
Now what?" 

 Fraser approached a guide who stood along the path holding a lantern,
waving them on. "Go on down to the bonfire, that's where we're gathering
first," the man said. "Blessed be." 

 The night held a faint chill, with clouds chasing each other across the
face of the waning moon. There was just enough light to make out the
silhouettes of the people standing around the fire that blazed in the
hollow of a little hill. Ray sniffed the air: rain was not far away. I'm
getting as bad as Benny, smelling things. Before you know it, I'm gonna be
down on all fours, tasting this grass....

 When they arrived at the bonfire, Ray noticed that one cloaked, hooded
figure was walking slowly around the perimeter of the hollow, holding one
arm above her head. 

 "What's going on, Benny?" Ray was careful to keep his voice to a whisper.
"What's that in her hand?" 

 "That's the priestess. She's holding an athame--a ritual knife," Fraser
whispered back. 

 The priestess finished her walk around the fire and stood still. "By all
that is above and all that is below," she intoned in a clear, thrilling
voice, "the circle is cast. We are between the worlds." 

 Her hood fell back, revealing her face. Ray stood rooted to the ground,
mouth open. "Dragon Lady? She's the priestess?" 

 "Hush, Ray. And please don't call her that. She has the Goddess in her
now." 

 Ray subsided, impressed. It was true that Inspector Meg Thatcher--he
couldn't stop thinking of her as he knew her in her worldly role--wore a
look of exaltation. The firelight lit her face, showing the Goddess-spirit
shining in her dark eyes. She looked so beautiful he wasn't surprised that
Benny was gazing at her with something very like adoration. 

 Meg raised her arms skyward. "Friends, before we go into the spiral
dance, let us cast into the flames all the attitudes and qualities that we
would like to discard on this last day of the old year. Tomorrow, November
first, is New Year's Day, when we begin again to follow the Wheel of the
Year as it turns in the heavens I'll begin." 

 Stepping closer to the fire, she made a casting motion with her hands
toward the flames. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all the prejudice
against our kind, worshippers of the Great Mother, practitioners of the
Craft of the Wise. For three hundred years we were hunted, tortured,
burned--now let us worship safely forevermore!" 

 "Blessed be," echoed the listeners around the fire. The wood hissed and
popped as the flames leaped high, curling over and under the logs. The
fragrance of woodsmoke pervaded the air. 

 "And on a personal level..." Meg looked around and smiled. "...I cast
away my tendency to be sharp-tongued with those that don't deserve it.
Into the flames, begone, forevermore!" 

 "Blessed be." 

 Ray wondered if this meant poor Fraser would henceforth escape the
tongue-lashings his superior officer had given him in the past. He watched
in bemusement as one by one the coveners stepped forward and
metaphorically cast disease, race hatred, war, and world hunger into the
flames, along with their personal failings. No way was he going to join
this confessional. Anything he wanted to get rid of was between him and
his parish priest. 

 Then Fraser stepped forward. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all the
prejudice toward predators, such as wolves. In the endless cycle of birth,
death, and rebirth, predators are the Great Mother's way of retaining the
balance of nature. And on a personal level, I cast away my tendency to
avoid discussing my innermost feelings. Into the flames, begone,
forevermore!" 

 Funny, Ray thought. Fraser and Dief were so much a part of his life that
he accepted the man-and-wolf combination as completely natural. It had
been a long time since he'd felt any fear of Dief. 

 Everyone was looking at him. Ray hesitated: he wasn't sure he wanted to
join in this weirdness. But glancing at Fraser, who was regarding him with
affection, he thought, What the hell, I might as well. He stepped forward,
thankful that the flames had died down sufficiently that their flickering
light would not reveal his face. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all
the prejudice against cops who're just trying to do their job and keep the
city safe. And on a personal level, I cast away...my tendency to feel
guilty about things that have nothin' to do with me. Into the flames,
begone, forevermore!" 

 After everyone had spoken, Meg took charge again. "I would remind you
that on this night, the last night of the old year, the veil between the
worlds is very thin. If those who have gone before wish to contact you,
they will do it now. As we dance and chant, let your mind open up to
receive their messages, if any. Remember the hundreds of thousands of
innocent martyrs who died in the flames during the Burning Times. Think of
your ancestors, or those you have loved, who have gone before. They wait
for you to join them in the Summerland, which some call the Isle of
Apples, or Avalon, in the West. Blessed be." 

 To the soft rhythm of a single drum, Meg turned and led the way out of
the fire circle, her cloak billowing behind her as a sudden shift in the
night wind caught it. 

 Fraser looked down at Dief. "Stay." 

 Dief growled softly, but lay down obediently near the fire and seemed
prepared to doze off. Ray and Fraser followed the others uphill to a
clearing, while the drum throbbed softly in the darkness and the wind
rustled through the trees. 

 "Hey, Fraser, what are we doin' now?" Ray whispered. 

 "We're going to do a spiral dance," Fraser whispered back. "During the
spiral sooner or later you'll come face to face with everyone here at
least once, or even more, depending on how long we keep it up." 

 In the clearing, as the clouds first concealed, then revealed the waning
moon, the worshippers joined hands and began the slow, twisting movements
of the spiral dance. As they moved, they sang the words of the chant over
and over, to the beat of the drum. 

 On the same
 Wheel we spin
 Into life and out again--
 One is many, many one,
 Brewing in Her cauldron.
 

 The repetitiveness of chant and dance combined began to blot out
everything else from Ray's consciousness. He was scarcely aware of
Fraser's warm, firm hand holding his left hand, or of the small, soft hand
of the woman who held his right. The words the priestess had spoken echoed
somewhere in his head: They wait for you to join them in the Summerland,
which some call the Isle of Apples, or Avalon, in the West. 

 The Isle of Apples...Avalon... Suddenly his mind's eye was filled with a
warm, golden light, like that of a fine sunset. His spirit, freed of its
earthly constraints, soared into the light and entered a state of utter
contentment. The light wavered, thickened, took form. Ray's father
suddenly appeared, looking very much as he had in late middle age, the
time of his journey into the next world. Then Ray became conscious of
words flooding into his mind. 

 Hello, son. Nice of you to come visit me here. 

 Pop? What're you doin' here? I thought you were in Purgatory. 

 No, son. I did my time and got out of there. I'm here now, and it's a lot
better. 

 Yeah, I can see it would be. Well, how's it going, Pop? 

 Great, son. Lissen, I want you to know I'm proud of you. I never found
the words to tell you that when I should've. You've been a fine son. And
I'm proud that you've made it into the ranks of Chicago's finest. 

 Gee, Pop, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. If this is what
being dead does for a person-- 

 I've got to go now, Raimondo. Give my love to your mother and the girls. 

 The feeling of warmth and peace faded and he came back to earth. He could
feel a cool wind blowing across his face, hear the crunch of dead leaves
under his feet. Around him the chanting went on, with the drum beating a
slow, steady rhythm. He was caught up in the dance, twisting in and out of
the spiral for what seemed a long time, until the chanting died away and
the spiral straightened into a line that began to wind down the hill to
where the embers of the bonfire glowed in the fire pit. At their approach,
Dief sat up and wagged his tail. 

 Although Ray felt physically present in his body once more, his mind was
still adrift in an ocean of images...of apples and sunsets, of the long
light summer days of his boyhood, of his father coming home from work in
the evenings, only to ignore him. He hardly heard the closing words of the
ritual as Meg thanked the spirits of the four quarters for their
attendance this night. 

 "Stay if you will,
 Go if you must--
 Hail and farewell."
 

 "Hail and farewell," murmured the worshippers in unison. 

 "The circle is open, but unbroken. May the peace of the Goddess go in our
hearts; merry meet..." 

 "...merry part, and MERRY MEET AGAIN!" the worshippers chorused. 

 "Well, it's over, Ray. What did you think?" Fraser spoke quietly, under
the burst of chatter that now arose. 

 Ray was watching the priestess and two of her helpers douse the fire with
pails of water. "It was different. Out of this world, to tell you the
truth. Actually, I kinda liked it." 

 "I'm glad." Fraser heaved a sigh of what might have been relief. "Then
you don't feel you've done anything wrong by coming here tonight?" 

 "Nope! I feel great." 

 And in fact, now that the fire was destroyed, Ray suddenly realized how
light he felt, how free. The guilt is gone. When my old man spoke to me in
the Isle of Apples, he said he was proud of me for being a cop. I don't
feel guilty any more for not being good enough, for not being a hero in
his eyes. He said I was a fine son. I'm free of that old garbage I was
carrying around. 

 Suddenly, at Samhain, his New Year had begun. And it promised to be good.


 

 The End  

  

 *Copyright October 1996 by Diana Read on all original story content. Not
meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any
other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for
anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the
author. Comments welcome at scribe@his.com. 

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