The book fair

It is the day of Harcourt Publishers annual book fair, a very big deal in the publishing world. Authors from all over the United States have gathered to promote their literary wares to the industry and general public. Among the throng of authors is Miriam Whittle, signing copies of her latest book entitled The Devil in our Backyard – the Miriam Whittle Story. She considers this book her magnum opus which contains her life story and a collection of her best prophesies, omitting the majority of those that had failed to come to fruition of course. She has come a long way since her days at Miss Robicheaux's Academy, another aspect of her life she purposefully left out of the book altogether. Miriam made quite a name for herself over the years as an astrologer to the stars and had chosen to settle permanently in Hollywood.

Next to Miriam is prominent psychiatrist Dr Celia Grey, and Hollywood's most famous shrink thanks to a round of tv talk-shows she has been doing recently. Her book, The Crowded House – an Exploration of Multiple Personality Disorders and Mass Hysteria, is on display. A hefty work that took five years or more of meticulous research.

To the left of Celia Grey is an exotic looking woman promoting her book entitled Spellwork and Ritual Magick for the Modern Witch. Lilith LaVey is a famed performance artist and practicing witch who claims to have a bloodline all the way back to the Salem witches. Her performances are often controversial, and she is rumoured to be appearing in a film by Marvin Tork, the "enfant terrible" of modern cinema.

No three authors could be more different from each other, and Celia Grey is clearly annoyed about being associated with such company. She gets up from her table and puts the Back in 5 Minutes sign up. She grimly makes her way through the crowd seeking out her secretary, Janet, who is standing in a lengthy que getting her copy of The Betsy signed by Harold Robbins. Janet has only been with her for four weeks, twenty-one years old and as green as grass. Celia taps her on the shoulder.

"Janet! What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"I'm not sure what you mean Doctor Grey?"

"What do I mean? I'm stuck in the middle of a couple of fruit loops, that's what I mean! One think's she's a witch and the other one is a glorified fortune teller. What do you think that does for my credibility?"

Janet fumbles with a copy of the program in her bag. "You were meant to be on the east side originally, there's been a mistake. Let me talk to the organisers and see if I can shift you. I'll go right away; you go back to your current booth."

"Not happy Janet!" Celia yells after her, hands on hips, before making her way back to the booth.

It's not long before Janet returns, and by her awkward body language Celia surmises that she had no luck in being able to shift her to a different location.

"I'm so sorry Doctor Grey, there isn't any spare booths, and they can't shift you at this late stage."

"Never mind, can you go get me some coffee and sandwiches, I'm starving."

"Yes, of course. What type of sandwiches?"

"Anything except tuna – I hate tuna fish!" Janet scuttles off.

Celia wanders over to Lilith LaVey's booth and picks up a book. On the cover is a naked woman holding a dagger in one hand, and a small crucible in another. She is crouching within the confines of a pentagram drawn on the floor, her features lit up by candlelight.

"Interesting cover, sex obviously sells then does it?"

"You disapprove?"

"If you are talking about the exploitation and degradation of women, hell yeah, I disapprove."

Celia opens the book and flips through the chapters, "Sex Spells, How to Become Sensuous, The Art of Seduction – and why is everyone naked in these pictures?"

"Nudity is empowering. It is natural and beautiful, so is the sexual act. You think this is exploitation, but it's not."

"Women should not have to use their bodies and their sexuality to feel empowered."

"Why not? It is a part of who we are, we use our bodies to express as well as our minds. It's about setting women free."

"It enslaves them, it doesn't set them free!"

"You will find it is men that are enslaved, to us. That is what my book is about – harnessing that power to get what you want in life."

"I've never heard such a load of horse-shit in all my life." Celia tosses the book back on the table and makes her way back to her own booth.

Lilith shoots back "Really? Don't you make your living out of listening to people's horse-shit and then selling it back to them as potpourri."

Celia's fists clench and she turns around to face Lilith, "I'm a Columbia-educated professional, I didn't get my credentials out of a fucking cereal box!"

"You're a hypocrite and a sell-out, Celia Grey!" They eye each other off, before Celia turns and slowly sits down at her own table. She is slightly rattled by the comment which has echoes of the last conversation she had with Beth Epstein on that dreadful day Helen Morcombe was killed. Thankfully, Janet arrives with the sandwiches and coffee and sets everything down on the table.

"Just in time, I'm famished," Celia unwraps a sandwich, takes a large bite, chews, and grimaces. Reaching for a napkin she spits out a mouthful, "Gaah! Janet, I thought I told you specifically not to get tuna."

"I didn't, I got you ham and cheese. I - I saw them make it up, it was ham and cheese!"

"Janet, nobody likes a fibber."

"But-"

"Never mind, just get me a plain hot dog. Even you can't stuff that up." Celia signs a couple of books for some college students that have been hovering around. A larger crowd has formed around Lilith LaVey's booth. Celia scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

The woman to her right coughs politely, seeking attention, "Hmm-hmm!"

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I think you will find that she did that and not your assistant."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The LaVey woman, she changed your sandwich to tuna. I saw her perform the immutatio odios." When Celia looks blankly at her, Miriam elaborates. "It's a type of revenge spell that changes something the subject likes into something they dislike."

"Oh really? How do you know that?" Celia humours her.

"I've made a lifelong study of witches and Satanism."

"I'm sorry, but in my professional opinion that statement could earn you a four week stint in a sanatorium for a full psychiatric evaluation."

The woman smiles and nods, empathising with Celia's disbelief. "I know, to the uninitiated it all sounds very odd, but believe me this country and in particular this city, has a writhing underbelly of darkness."

"That's comforting,"

"You're obviously not seeing what I am seeing. More people are succumbing to the devil's temptations. Have you not noticed a change in anything? A quickening?"

"I think we just travel in different circles, that's all," Celia says carefully. She doesn't mention the alarming number of patients she has seen in the last few months that have claimed to have seen the devil or demons with yellow eyes. She keeps quiet, not wanting to buy into the old broad's agenda.

"My visions have told me of the rise of an Anti-Christ soon, in our times."

"You know, visions or hallucinations can sometimes be the onset of schizophrenia, or perhaps there is some other underlying medical cause such as an imbalance in the body's biochemistry," offers Celia helpfully.

Miriam responds with a tight smile. "Tell me Doctor do you interpret your patients' dreams?"

"Yes, I do. I believe in the principals of Friederichs Nietzsche, that dreams can be a valuable window to the subconscious."

"Well then, do you believe that the subconscious is connected to a greater or higher consciousness?"

"It's plausible."

"My visions are like lucid dreams, that just so happen to be literal rather than figurative."

"Well, when you put it that way it kind of makes sense." The woman, Miriam Whittle, takes one of her books and writes something on the inside cover.

"If ever you need to get in touch with me, for whatever reason, my details are there."

"Thank you, but I don't think there would be any reason why I would-," Celia stops mid-sentence as she opens the cover of the book and reads what has been written. Printed below Miriam Whittles contact details was a short sentence that stopped Celia in her tracks. He is coming, it said. Helen Morcombe's last words to her, it was as though she were speaking from the grave.

"Here you are Doctor Grey!" Her food has arrived. Celia eyes the plump, brown, wiener nestled in a split bun that Janet places before her. She lifts it up to her salivating mouth and takes a huge bite. Something tastes off as she begins to chew. She spits out the offending morsel in the wrapper. It tasted something like – no, exactly like – tuna.

Celia glances over at Lilith LaVey who is mouthing something to her... Bon Appetit.