He opened the gate on the empty park and ushered me to the bench inside. "In paranormal romance, you need three elements to stand out in a crowded market. One? Sex. I'm very good at it." He sat down. "I'm not bad at writing it, either."
I rolled my eyes. He only smiled.
"And the other two?" I asked.
"Originality and attention to detail, both of which require extensive research. While most writers focus on the Hollywood tropes--vampires, werewolves, and such--I dig deeper. Which means I know a lot about the occult and everything currently labeled as the occult by Western Christian society, more correctly known as folklore and pagan religions."
He leaned over and lowered his voice, fake-conspiratorial. "So, do I qualify to hear the juicy heretofore unrevealed details?"
I mentally ran through the various elements and picked the least sensational. "Mistletoe."
His brows lifted in an expression that for a split-second reminded me of Gabriel. Proving that my former lawyer was playing on my thoughts a little more than I liked.
"Mistletoe?"
"There was a sprig of it left near the bodies."
"Ah, that is indeed a tricky one. Very arcane lore. You see, there's an obscure cult in Malta that worships Saint Nicolas, and every December twenty-fifth, they hang mistletoe from trees and engage in debauched kissing orgies."
I gave him a look.
He laughed. "Well, at least you don't believe me. Some people might. As for the real answer, either you're just testing me or the prosecution hired some very dim-witted investigators. Mistletoe is traditionally associated with the Druids. The first known reference was by Pliny the Elder. While it's not nearly as common as bloody pentacles, it wouldn't be completely unexpected if one considers these potential sacrificial murders."
"Because the Druids practiced human sacrifice."
"Possibly. The jury's still out on that. The problem is that we have no records from the Druids themselves. Unless you count neo-Druids, and I don't. They're as close to real Druids as Tinker Bell is to fairies."
"Real fairies."
Another flash of a grin, and his voice dropped into a perfect brogue. "Aye, ye dinna believe in the wee folk, lass? That's trouble. The pixies will sour your milk."
"I thought it was hobgoblins who soured milk."
"A dirty lie. Spread by the pixies, no doubt. Nasty buggers. I'll amend my analogy. Neo-Druids are as close to real ones as Tinker Bell is to the traditional fae of folklore. We have no writings from the Druids because they lacked a writing system. What we have comes from something even worse than pixies. Romans."
"When the Romans discovered Britain."
"Discovered? Like Columbus discovered America? The Romans were bloody invaders, worse than the Vikings. Spreading their culture on the tips of their lances. They thought the natives were barbarians, led by bloodthirsty Druids."
"So the accounts we have of human sacrifice all come from the Romans, which means it may have been a public relations smear? Convince everyone back home that all Brits are murderers who need to be annihilated."
"Or it may have been true."
I looked over at Patrick.
He shrugged. "I have no love for the Romans, but I'm not convinced the Druids didn't practice human sacrifice. The problem comes in the interpretation. Or the misinterpretation. The Romans saw it as a fundamental disrespect for human life. It wasn't. Romans understood the core concept--like the Celts, they practiced animal sacrifice. But when you really want--or need--to get the attention of the gods, you offer them your best. Something you value more than the life of an animal."
"The life of a human."
"Exactly. So, too, would the Druids, if they did indeed practice human sacrifice. Are you really telling me no one interpreted that mistletoe as Druidic?"
"It was mentioned, but none of the other elements seemed to be Druidic, so it lent credence to the theory that the Larsens were incorporating disparate elements to fake ritual sacrifice."
"The Larsens. Is that how you think of them?"
"Yes."
He made a noise in his throat. Not really disapproval. Just a noise.