The Last Dancer | Page 5

this before. The fact is that in Los Angeles, in any major city, I can make a living at both of my trades. In Goddess Home I cannot make a living at either.
"The second reason I'm willing to share with you is simple. When I joined Goddess Home, Marta Tracing held your job. She was a quiet person, and I found her easy to get along with. Since Marta passed away, intolerance over ideological purity has grown to the point where I am no longer comfortable here. I don't think I need to be more explicit."
Alaya nodded slowly. "You've evaded this question before, but we are alone, and you are leaving--what do you truly think of Wicca?"
Jasmine sighed. "Why does it matter?"
"Wicca is--" Alaya's frustration was apparent. "It's the entire point of Goddess Home. It's the reason this town exists. If you're not here because of Wicca, why are you here?" She paused. "Or, if you like, why were you here?"
"I didn't say that I did not find Wicca attractive. It is--a life-affirming system of beliefs. Theologically it's no sillier than Christianity; it seems so at times only because it doesn't have two thousand years of ornate rationalization to fall back upon. Emotionally it's at least as healthy as any other religion I'm familiar with. The rituals are less elaborate than those of the older religions, but that, too, is part of the charm. But--Alaya, when you make the doctrine, the detail of ritual, more important than the connection to Deity that it is supposed to serve, you are in the process of turning Wicca into something very much like the patriarchal, authoritarian religions you detest. I don't believe in your Goddess, Alaya. I also don't believe in the Christian God. I believe in something, because I've felt it in my own life. When I was younger I used to think it was what everybody else called God, and for a little while I did think it might be what Wicca calls the Goddess. But today I admit I don't know what it is, that I have no words for it. And when you insist that what I feel is--or should be--what you have written down on paper, or what you speak in ritual, you lose me, Alaya. And a lot of other people, apparently."
Alaya bit her lower lip. "Thank you for your frankness."
"I hope it's of some help."
"Well. So much for that." Alaya dismissed the subject with a visible effort. When she spoke again she was clearly nervous. "There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a moment. I'll make it quick."
"Please. I have less than half an hour to make the Bullet."
"I'm curious as to how you came to join us, three years ago."
"I believe it's in the records."
"Very little of it is in the records, Jasmine; Marta left us two rather terse paragraphs explaining it as a matter of personal obligation. A 'Sieur McGee did some work for us about ten years ago--the nature of that work isn't in the records either. Then three years ago he petitioned to have you admitted for residency in Goddess Home. I think you may be the only woman who has ever lived here whose petition was presented by a man."
Jasmine nodded. "Marta said she thought I was."
Alaya waited expectantly.
Jasmine let the silence stretch, smiling. When twenty seconds had passed she said softly, "My father used to do this to people. Throw silence at them and wait for them to start talking. It seemed so obvious when I was nine years old, even then I was always surprised when I saw it work."
"But it's not going to work on you, is it? And you're not going to tell me how you came to Goddess Home."
Jasmine shook her head. "It was a private matter between myself and 'Sieur McGee and Marta. Marta is dead and I would not know how to contact 'Sieur McGee if my life depended upon it."
Alaya nodded, hesitating, and then said abruptly, "You're real."
Jasmine said carefully, "I beg your pardon?"
"A lot of the women who study Wicca, who cast the spells and make the circles, they--" Alaya hesitated again. "A lot of them--almost all of them, damn it--are kidding themselves. But you're real, you have something. I have a little bit of it, enough to know when a spell has worked, when a circle closes correctly. Sometimes I get some of what people are thinking and feeling. But when you walk into the same room with me--there's a sound, except it's not a sound, like a thousand bees buzzing all around me, and I can't hear anything. People have lied to me when you were nearby and I couldn't tell."
Jasmine nodded slowly. Not counting Alaya, there were three women she had met