"I beg your pardon?" Laura said.

"Remember the giddiness of first love? The sense that the whole world had new meaning, because of him? Wouldn't you like to recapture that? Most women would. It's an intoxi- cating feeling, isn't it? And these are the intoxicants."

Laura stared at the pills. "Are you telling me these are love potions?"

The reverend shifted uncomfortably, with a whisper of black silk against vinyl. "Mrs. Webster, please don't mistake me for a witch. The Church of Wicca are reactionaries. And no, these aren't love potions, not in the folklore sense. They only stir that rush of emotion-they can't direct it at anyone.

You do that for yourself."

"It sounds hazardous," Laura said.

"Then it's the sort of danger women were born for!" the reverend said. "Do you ever read romance novels? Millions do, for this same thrill. _ Or eat chocolate? Chocolate is a lover's gift, and there's reason behind the tradition. Ask a chemist about chocolate and serotonin precursors sometime."

The reverend touched her forehead. "It all comes to the same, up here. Neurochemistry." She pointed to the table.

"Chemistry in those pills. They're natural substances, cre- ations of the Goddess. Part of the feminine soul."

Somewhere along the line, Laura thought, the conversation had gently peeled loose from sanity. It was like falling asleep on an air raft and waking up far out to sea. The important thing was not to panic. "Are they legal?" Laura said.

Reverend Morgan picked up a pill with her lacquered nails and ate it. "No blood test would show a thing. You can't be prosecuted for the natural contents of your own brain. And no, they're not illegal. Yet. Praise the Goddess, the Patriar- chy's laws still lag behind advances in chemistry."