The following day much was being made about the mauling of the man in Madrid by a mountain lion. There were news crews doing stories from various corners of the town, using the quaint village as a backdrop for the very unusual story. It was even covered by CNN, as such a rare event often reaches far beyond the locale of a shocking incident. Simi returned from school having already heard much about it when she arrived in Santa Fe that day. The students were charged up with both fear and fascination with the gruesome details of the incident.

Of course, she had a special connection to the whole event, which she recognized implicitly yet also did not fully understand the mechanisms of, as with so many phenomenal events leading to tragedies in her young life. More news had come out by the time CNN ran the story, that the victim of the attack was a French national and was listed as a "tourist," though Simi and others in the town had other ideas about his status. Surely Curtis' father was one not to believe the man was simply in Madrid on holiday, as certainly others in his clandestine group would also have known.

Having another French foreign national, possibly from the same group, die in a traffic fatality just months before outside Madrid, while blamed on the weather, only added to the mystery of the Madrid connection to two freakish accidents. It was rumored that since the mishap, there were a number of journalists in the town asking a lot of questions that day, trying to put some spin or angle onto the coincidence for a major story. Luis and Gabriella were keeping quiet and publicly made no speculations, though they were constantly being asked both in the restaurant and out in the community what they had heard and what they knew about the cat attack.

By the following evening, It had finally leaked out that there was some sort of congregation who had been meeting regularly in the little town with leaders from France, and particularly members of the Dominican division of the Catholic Church. What their purpose was there and how long the group was in operation had not been determined. Most information people were getting on the streets of Madrid, and even in the news reports, was based on rumor and hearsay.

One of the journalists asking questions was a young man from California. He had flown out as a freelancer to investigate the story of the cat attack, but seemed to be asking a lot more of residents, as if he had some theory of what was transpiring in the little town. As the mauled victim was still in serious condition and incapacitated for any questioning, even by the police, the townsfolk of Madrid were called upon to try and connect the dots to a story that only seemed to be growing more mysteriously in a number of different directions.

Several of the old-timers claimed there was a tradition in the town of witchcraft, which, since the 1960's, never fully left it. Others credited the curious goings to Scientologists who had a large following in nearby Santa Fe. Still others claimed certain "cultists" were afoot in the high desert communities who might have settled into Madrid lately to avoid publicity and practice their beliefs in relative peace from the publicity of an outside world.

On the other side of the mystery were the French visitors themselves, who were said to be a relatively small group, originally perhaps only numbering a half dozen or so. This was confirmed by curious and watchful neighbors that reported they had been recruiting citizens of the town in their efforts to form a large cohesive group. And just what their agenda was seemed to be at the heart of all the questioning done by this blond, surfer-looking Californian who identified himself as Cody Berenson.

This journalist seemed fixated on the fact that the French visitors who had been frequenting the town had been there for the entire summer with no one really sure of what they were doing. Cody had approached Gabriella in the restaurant earlier that day and wanted to meet with her after hours, perhaps in her own home to ask some basic questions. He surmised that, as the manager of a popular eatery in the little town, she might be privy to details he had not yet learned. She flatly refused him this opportunity, much to Simi's relief at the dinner table that night where she learned of his request

For several days the town was a buzz with camera crews and local news teams still more focused on the huge cat, still at large, and the danger it presented to other citizens and tourists. Many in Madrid remembered there had been a mountain lion scare earlier in the town that sent men with rifles out to look for it. There was a growing urgency now from one camp that wanted to catch and kill the vicious cat, and the other who were picking up on just the strains of a story brewing below the surface of the little historical town's history with the occult.

As the following morning was a school day, and Simi suffered particularly strongly from the symptoms of her period, she convinced her mother to let her stay home and take a day's absence from school. It was under these circumstances that there came a knock on the front door of her house about eleven AM while Simi was home alone. From the looks of the young man who stood before her on the doorstep, she knew it had to be the visiting journalist from California. He fit Gabriella's description of him perfectly--casual dress, long, blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. Simi quickly gathered from his west coast accent that he was a native of the west and had no trace of a French accent.

"Hello young lady. My name is Cody. I'm covering the mountain lion story here in Madrid. And um . . . is this where . . . Gabriella lives? I was told this is her home."

Simi stood a moment half behind the door, just looking into the stranger's mesmerizing eyes. She was compelled to not be cooperative with him as her mother had been, but there was something in his boyish and innocent demeanor that spoke of no threat.

"Well, she told me she doesn't want to speak to anyone from the news about it. So, I'm sorry, but I guess I must tell you that."

The young man's face melded into a charmed smile.

"OK, Hun. So I guess I'll just have to respect that then." His voice was soft, trusting and now of resignation. "I was just hoping if I caught her before she went to work . . . it might be better . . . and easier to talk."

Simi was tempted to say her mother was already at work, but she was far too wise to let any male know she was home alone.

"Well, I'm sorry . . . but my mom is just like that."

"I understand. See I'm putting some things together about this little town and it just seems to get more interesting the deeper I dig."

"I'm sure," she said, strongly wanting him to tell her all he knew."

"It must be kinda creepy for a kid like you . . . living here in this old mining town sometimes, huh?"

Simi gave no answer as she looked into Cody's face searchingly. It was easy to look at, though she didn't like the way he referred to her as a "kid."

"So do you go to school here?"

"The nearest high school is in Santa Fe. That's where we all go."

"OK then. Well look . . . I gotta be going back to . . ."

"So . . . what have you found out so far?" She boldly asked. She couldn't resist the question. Just to test the waters with him.

"Oh. Lots so far. Yeah. Seems there's some kind of . . . secret society working in this place . . . trying to stamp out . . ."

"Evil?"

Cody stopped and looked into Simi's face as if for the first time.

"Yeah, actually. How did you know that?"

"You hear things . . . see things."

"Wow. Young lady you want to tell me about some of that?"

"I don't know. Maybe. First, I want you to tell me what you think is going on here . . . I mean as an outsider. A journalist."

"How old are you, anyway? I thought you were just. . ."

"I know. A kid." She said this with a tinge of anger.

"OK. I'm sorry. Guess you're not so young then."

"Let's just say I'm older in other ways. Older than people think."

"OK. Well that could be helpful."

"So seriously. Tell me what do you think is going on here?"

"Look. Do you want me to come in . . . so we can discuss it?"

"No. I'm fine here. My dog would probably eat you alive if you came in anyway."

The young man looked curiously behind her into the room.

"Well thanks for the warning. Dogs and I don't really get along. One of the occupational hazards of journalists, I guess."

"Maybe they know something about you I don't" Simi said. She then smiled at him in jest.

Cody smiled back a little embarrassed by the well-placed remark.

"Well for starters . . . this group that's operating out of this town . . . It appears their associated with the Dominican Order of the Catholic Church."

She thought about the medallion she saw in the car of the man who was later attacked. The strange little phrase, "Domini Canes." It was a phrase she could only translate as 'hounds of the Lord.'

"So who are they? What do they want here?"

"Well, if my Internet searches are correct, it was this order that did a lot of . . . evil-hunting about five centuries ago. They were the arm of the Church which controlled the Inquisition. That was a pretty bad time in Europe. Where in Spain and France they rounded up people they didn't like and, well . . . eliminated them."

"Yes. I know. Burned them alive?"

"Wow. So you're pretty educated, too."

"You're talking about people in Spain who the Church labeled as its enemies."

"Yeah, exactly. Men and women who didn't . . ."

"And especially witches . . . women and girls they thought were dealing with the devil."

"Well, yeah. Wow. You got that right, too. Anyone accused of causing bad things to a whole community."

"And you just had to be accused . . . to be burned."

Simi looked directly into his eyes in saying this. She was quite familiar with the history of witches, as she had made it her hobby to understand them, and the cultures they were banished from. It was a strain for her now to not let the journalist know just how well versed she was in their plight. Her heart was pounding as she asked the next question.

"So why exactly do you want to talk to my mother?"

Cody was silent a moment and seemed to be reading her for what she perhaps already knew. She was surprised at his bold and candid response.

"Well, because it seems her own grandmother, years ago in this town . . . was thought to be . . ."

"A witch. Yes, I know."

"You do?"

"Of course."

"And well, young lady. I'm just very curious about that. Because you see. . . she was later . . ."

"Murdered. I know."

"Wow. You do?"

"Yes. Any ideas why? Who did it? I mean . . . besides the fact that people are afraid and can't tolerate differences in people?"

"No. I don't know exactly who or why. But I'm here to find out."

"Then that makes two of us. I've spent years trying to understand why that happened to my great grandmother. And now the fear is back . . . it's all happening again in Madrid."

"So . . . who are they targeting then?" Cody seemed to know this was a dramatic and pivotal question.

Simi looked deeper into his perfectly blue eyes. They were begging her to tell the truth. Telling her she could trust him with what she knew. Reaching out to help her with this huge pain and mystery she carried.

"I . . . I really don't know," she finally said under her breath, looking down.

"Well listen. You know me now as Cody. And . . . what shall I call you?"

"Simonetta," she said softly.

"That's a beautiful name. Very old I suppose."

"Yes. it is."

"Well, listen . . . Simonetta. Let's make a deal . . ."

He took out a business card with just his name and cell phone number on it. Nothing else.

"I'll tell you everything I learn about this case . . . if you promise to do the same with me, OK?"

She thought about this proposal for several moments with her head still down. Then, finally looking up, she reached out for the card he offered.

"Alright, Cody. That's a deal."

"And we don't need to tell your mother about this at all . . . at least not yet. OK?"

Again, she struggled momentarily with the bold promise.

"OK. Between us. But I'll only do this if you find out what I want to know. About my great grandmother, Theresa. Why she was killed. And who did it."

"Answers we both want to know, Simonetta . . . But we also need to learn just who it is these certain people seem to think carries the evil in this town, today. OK?"

"Right," she said, moving further behind the door and looking for the last time into his handsome face.

"Call me, Simonetta," he said, walking toward the street. "It's just our secret."

* * *