“Okay, but what’s coincidental about Goode?”
“Surely you know the significance of that name in the occult community.”
George smirked. “I think you might have the wrong idea of what kinda company I keep.”
Dana sighed, stifling her comments about the loss of history in this generation. “The Goodes, traditionally spelled without the ‘e’ on the end, are one of the most famous witch families in history.”
“Okay,” George drawled again without understanding.
Exasperated, Dana searched for a way to relay the sentiment interms he would understand. “The Goodes are to elemental witchcraft, what Marie Laveau is to Voodoo.”
George’s eyes widened with understanding. “I’ve never heard that.”
“I don’t suppose you would’ve unless you’d devoted your career to occult studies.”
“Well, then I’m glad to have you on my team, considering you wrote the book on this sorta thing.”
“If you’re referring to my manuscript,Our Beginning: A History of Earth Magic, then yes, I did write the book on it. But it doesn’t seem to be making an impact if the most influential families in occult history are fading into obscurity.”
George shook his head again, that good-natured grin lighting his face. “You’re something else, Gray.”
“I know most people think magic is baseless hokey trickery, but if you dig deep enough, you’ll uncover layers of truth. All the fairytales, urban legends, ghost stories … they came from solid origins.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You can’t grow up in Nawlins without a healthy dose of belief in such things. In my lifetime, I’ve seen things I can’t explain. But people disappearing into thin air ain’t one of them. There’s always an explanation. Nine out of ten times, they mean to disappear.”
“And the tenth time?” Dana asked.
“Someone made them.”
“Is that what you think happened here, with the Goode sisters and the Harvest Girls?”
“I don’t know what to think. The Harvest Girls were before my time with the NOPD, but from what I know of it now, it sounds like the sisters had a reason to run.”
“I don’t know,” Dana argued. “From what you told me, the evidence was circumstantial.”
“It was, but they still ran. That’s a pretty loud admission of guilt, if you ask me.”
“There’s lots of reasons innocent people run.”
“Like?” he pressed.
“Self-preservation, fear of persecution, racial bias.”
George crossed his arms, looking annoyed now. “Dana, I’m a black man in law enforcement in the South. I’m familiar with the history of social injustice here.”
“And are you familiar with the number of people falsely accused of witchcraft and killed for it? 60,000 people between the 15th and 18th centuries. That’s 60,000 innocent souls executed for their beliefs.”
George let out a low whistle at the staggering number.
“Exactly,” Dana agreed. “Now imagine you were raised with a keen understanding of this history. Then found yourself accused of the Harvest Girl crimes. That’d be enough incentive to get me to run.”
“I’m not excusing atrocities of the past, but some of these alleged ‘witches,’” he said using air quotes, “were poisoning their spouses, selling false cures, and the likes.”
“Maybe, but you have to understand what women endured back then. They were barely considered human, they had no rights, were abused, traded, and bred like livestock. They fought back the only way they knew how.”