The knocking was on the outer office door. I glanced at the clock: six on the dot.
I opened the door. The mayor was standing there with a blindfold on.
He held out his hands.
I placed the letters from the two people who had approached me for help with the mayor in his palms. He put them into his breast pocket, then held his hand out again. I put the manila envelope into it.
Finally, he said, “That it?”
“Yes,” I said.
He turned and walked away, still blindfolded.
Chapter 19
Well, if that don’t beat all, I thought as I headed out to my car. Had I just bribed the mayor of San Francisco? And if so . . . with what?
I felt sort of larcenous and clueless at the same time, like a bumbling drug dealer.
Why would Aidan have gone and left me without a clue? Again, the thought occurred: He would probably find this hysterically funny. I hoped to heck he wasn’t somehow watching all of this on some sort of punk-the-witch supernatural camcorder.
By the time I got back to the Haight and let myself into Aunt Cora’s Closet, I found Bronwyn and Duke cleaning up after their pizza feast. Conrad had just left to claim his favorite sleeping spot in Golden Gate Park, and Maya had taken Loretta home.
My erstwhile ward, Selena, sat on the floor, industriously shining all of the silver jewelry she had taken out of the display cabinet. She looked up at me with rather empty, frightening-looking eyes in a pinched face. At fourteen years old, Selena was still young and awkward, and she was remarkably powerful. She reminded me a little of myself at that age: gawky, out of control, miserable. At least those last two traits I could be instrumental in addressing. We were working on finding positive ways for her to direct her magic, and that, in turn, was helping her to be more confident and—dare I say it?—happier. Even though she was still painfully thin, I thought she was beginning to fill out. Bronwyn and I were forever foisting food on her.
Selena still had a hard time with humans but was capable of great kindness when it came to animals; Maya had helped her find a volunteer position at the local no-kill shelter, where she went twice a week to help socialize the cast-off cats and dogs. Her smiles, though still rare, were usually reserved for the animals.
“Did you meet Loretta?” I asked her.
She nodded and handed me a shiny silver charm in the shape of a bee.
“I found this in your junk box. It was ugly but I cleaned it and shone it up for her,” Selena said. “For Loretta’s collar.”
“Aren’t you just a sweetheart? What made you think of that?”
“Because she has those charms on her collar. This will add to them.”
And as I knew, Selena had imbued the silver with a little of her special power. The jewelry she cleaned flew off the shelves, as people just felt a little better when they put it on. The energy was subtle but powerful.
“Thank you, Selena. Why a bee?”
She shrugged. “Loretta reminds me of bees. I like bees.”
“Me, too,” I said and gave her a little hug. She immediately stiffened, as always, and she didn’t hug me back, but she accepted it.
“Oh, Lily, Sailor called,” said Bronwyn. “He said to tell you, ‘There was no sign of scarlet funk.’ I’m sure it must be some sort of lover’s code. . . . I do hope everything’s all right between you two? No . . . health issues?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said with a smile. “He’s referring to a person. Thanks for letting me know.”
After seeing Bronwyn and Duke off, Selena and I locked up, turned out the lights in the shop, and retired upstairs to my apartment. Selena’s grandmother owned a botanica on Mission Street, and though she was skilled as an apothecary owner, she wasn’t capable of helping her granddaughter learn to harness her special abilities. So Selena had started spending a night or two every week with me so we could study. She and Oscar had something of a love-hate relationship, and I had to sell him on her coming over by promising a movie and popcorn with lots of butter after we were finished brewing.
“I don’t see why I can’t go to the Rodchester House of Spirits for the overnight tomorrow,” Selena said as we climbed the stairs, her tone sullen.
“That’s what I said,” Oscar grunted. Selena was one of the select few that Oscar transformed around whenever we were alone. The two of them were quite the pair; if they weren’t trying to hex each other, they were peas in a pod.
“It’s for grown-ups,” I said as I opened the door to the apartment. “Besides, they say it’s a haunted house. Do you like haunted houses?”
Her eyes grew huge, but she just shrugged. I was willing to bet she, like Sailor and me and other magical folks I knew, didn’t intentionally subject herself to haunted venues.
“I’d like to be with the coven,” she said.
The Welcome coven, true to their name, had welcomed Selena wholeheartedly into their fold. The only problem was that she couldn’t control her powers enough to join them when they cast the circle or drew down the moon; this was, in part, where I came in. Our coaching sessions were geared toward helping Selena learn to control her abilities and curb her anger, which, at least in part, fed those powers. I felt just a teensy bit out of my league since I was still working on these particular aspects of my own personality, but I did the best that I could, and I called my own grandmother for advice with ever-increasing frequency.
Selena would be a powerful witch one day; it was imperative that she remain on the just, humane path.
“Tonight we’re going to work on a general protection brew, and we’ll mix some sprite dust.”
Selena nodded solemnly. She did most things with sober seriousness. If there was one thing I most wanted for my young apprentice, aside from keeping her safe, it was showing her that she could—and should—experience joy.
“You want to join us, Oscar?”
“Nah,” he said, grabbing his book and making himself comfortable on the couch. “What time’s popcorn?”
“After we brew. Aren’t you still stuffed with pizza?”
“That was half an hour ago!”
I had to smile at the outrage in his voice. “Why don’t you have an apple? Pink Lady, your favorite.”
“We got any cheese and crackers?”
“Help yourself.”
“What’s first?” Selena asked as she grabbed the basket I used to gather my herbs. I took my sickle-shaped boline out of the drawer, and we went out to my garden terrace.
“First, the protection herbs: I favor cinquefoil, black cohosh, mullein, and mugwort.” With each herb I showed her where to cut for the health of the plant and to optimize the clipping’s potential. Then I traded the boline for a small spade and showed her how to dig. “As for roots, I like galangal and ginger. Always tell the plant what you are after before disturbing the earth, and then thank it with a coin and a dollop of unpasteurized goat’s milk.”
She let out a snort of laughter. “Seriously?”
It was so rare that Selena was amused by anything, I tried to talk myself out of reacting with impatience. Still. The girl was capable of making metal shine light upon her and had witnessed someone destroy himself by twisting a poppet made of wax. But thanking rootstock was going too far?
I forced myself to answer with a gentle: “This is how I learned to do things. Maybe not all of it makes sense, but as a system it has worked for me, and for my grandmother before me, and her grandmother before her. Are you sure you want to laugh at that?”
She shook her head and adopted her humorless mien once again.
I showed her how to wash the herbs with rainwater I kept in a small cistern, and then to pat them dry in the moonlight while chanting a simple charm of thanks. Then we brought them into the kitchen and readied the cauldron, filling it halfway with springwater. We crushed several of the herbs with the ancient st
one mortar and pestle Graciela had given me and started chanting while we added the others whole, one by one, along with the roots. I added another dollop of milk, several strings of spiderwebs, and three quail eggs.
Selena stirred the brew deosil. When she joined me in the chanting, I could feel the pull of her energy. She was strong but not centered. But as she continued to stir and chant, I could feel her powers focus and calm.
“Take out the spoon now.”
She did as I said. The brew continued to stir on its own.
“You see?” I asked. “We did it right. It’s creating its own energy now.”
“And that’s it? Just like that? It will protect people now?”
“Not quite like that. It needs to brew for a while. The heat transforms things, just like in cooking. The ingredients must transmute from raw to cooked; they combine to form something entirely new. The fire creates steam, and the steam helps make the magic.”
“Whoa,” she said quietly.
I was pleased that she was impressed, not so much for my ego but because she was being introduced to the wonders of what we could accomplish. We witches were a special breed, and she was on the brink of joining our sisterhood. But no matter how much innate talent she might possess, without study and practice she would never fulfill her potential. Or worse: It would be turned toward the negative.
While the concoction brewed, we went back out to the terrace and gathered club moss and lily pollen, then the tiny petals from the Achillea millefolium. We brought these into the kitchen and I had Selena grind them together with the mortar and pestle. To this I added a dash of cemetery dirt, red sandalwood powder, and a few shavings of mica.
We put the mix into a small casserole dish and I popped it in the preheated oven.
“What’s the sprite dust for?” Selena asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But my Book of Shadows suggested it, and I’m not one to question my Book of Shadows.”
“I wish I could see the book,” she said.
“Someday soon,” I replied. “When you’re ready.”
“When will that be?”
“I don’t know, sugar pie. Seeing the future isn’t one of my skills. But I think we’ll know when it happens. All in good time, as they say. Now, you smell that?”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded.
“I’m sorry to say there’s a good deal of stinkiness in brewing,” I said with a laugh. “But are you ready for the next step? This is the exciting stage.”
Selena gazed at me wide-eyed, then nodded. Oscar hopped up off the couch and bounded over to the kitchen.
“Oooh, I love this part! This is awesome!” he said.
I held my hand over the steaming cauldron, and using my ceremonial knife, my athame, I cut a tiny X in the palm of my hand. Then I let the blood drip into the cauldron: one, two, three drops.
There was a muffled kaboom, and steam surged out of the cauldron and coalesced under the ceiling. I looked up to see the amorphous face I knew would be there, looking down at me. Made of steam, it was there one moment, gone the next.
My guiding spirit. The Ashen Witch.
“Didja see that?” Oscar asked, excited. He was always thrilled when I called on the Ashen Witch. “That was awesome! Mistress, is it time for movies and popcorn now?”
“Why don’t you and Selena pick out the movie you’d like? I want to pack for tomorrow, and then I’ll pop popcorn and join you.”
“Okay, c’mon, Selena. Mistress?”
“Yes?”
“What am I supposed to do tomorrow while you’re gone? Why don’t I just come with you, and that way you don’t have to worry about me?”
“Why would I worry about you? You’re fine on your own. I made you your favorite, mac ’n’ cheese. All you have to do is heat it up, and you can read or watch movies like any other night.”
He harrumphed. “I can’t watch movies every night. What if you need me? I like to be useful.”
“You could always do laundry,” I suggested as I took the sprite dust out of the oven and put it to cool on a baker’s rack. “There’s always plenty of laundry.”
He gazed at me for a long time, let out a long-suffering sigh, then turned to Selena and shook his head.
“She just doesn’t get me.”
Selena shrugged, trailed him into the living room, and suggested we watch The Lord of the Rings. This engendered a long argument over whether the adaptation held a candle to the original books. I was going to stay out of this one.
I had worried about the Welcome coven sisters from the moment I heard about the overnight, and now, with the connection to Autumn, Renee, and Scarlet . . . my worries seemed justified. I just hoped that my brew and dust, and Sailor’s presence along with mine, would be enough to make sure the coven was safe. And who knew? Maybe we would find the answer of how, and why, Autumn died.
First I aired out my sleeping bag; then I packed an overnight pack with pajamas and toiletries, along with salts, my athame, a few sprigs of vinca, and a length of sorcerer’s rope. Just in case.
Once the liquid in the cauldron cooled, I filled two widemouthed mason jars full of protection brew and packed these along with salts, extra herbs, and the sprite dust in my woven shopping bag.
“Have either of you ever heard of a game called Clue?” I asked as I brought out the popcorn and heated oil in a deep pan.
Selena shook her head.
“I got no clue,” Oscar said, then cackled.
“What?”
“What, what?”
“Seriously, you haven’t heard of it?” I repeated. “It’s a board game, I think.”
Oscar blinked at me. “What, is this the start of a joke?”
“Why?” I asked as I poured the kernels into the pan and placed the lid on tightly.
“What are you talking about?” Selena asked. She was as pathetically out of touch as I was, but she had a shorter fuse.
“Everybody knows that game. It’s like asking if I’ve ever heard of Monopoly.”
“Oh! I’ve heard of that one!” I said, as pleased as a child winning a prize.
“Me, too!” Selena chimed in.
“Everyone’s heard of that one,” Oscar said, bottle-glass green eyes wide, with the exaggerated patience he used when trying to teach me something. “What did you two do when you were kids?”
“Learned how to brew, how not to accidentally burn down the school or cause my obnoxious classmates head injuries, and how to call on my guiding spirit in order to influence reality.”
Selena nodded.
“Ah,” Oscar conceded. “Well done, both of you.”
I called Bronwyn and asked her if she had the game Clue. She did, so I asked her to bring it along for the overnight at the Rodchester House of Spirits. I didn’t expect it would provide me with any clues, despite the name, but I was tired of being clueless.
When the popcorn was done popping, I poured plenty of melted butter over the top and sprinkled it with salt, and the three of us settled in to watch the movie.
Oscar had a point: It wasn’t as good as the book, but we enjoyed it nonetheless.
Chapter 20
The next morning was busy, with folks stopping by who’d been disappointed to see Aunt Cora’s Closet closed for the last couple of days. Bronwyn and I planned to leave early, but Maya and Loretta would stay and close the shop at the usual hour. Conrad was around for backup. Given the way my life was these days, I didn’t like to leave anyone alone at the shop.
Selena’s grandmother came to pick her up at ten. The girl stood stiffly while Bronwyn and I imposed good-bye hugs on her, and Maya shook her hand. The only overt affection Selena showed was for Loretta, who thumped her tail.
“We’re allowed into the Rodchester House at six,” Bronwyn explained when she left at noon to get her things togethe
r. “But there’s a lot of traffic between here and San Jose, so I’d like to leave early. As long as we’re all there by eight, though, we’re fine. Thank you for letting us use the shop van, Lily! That way a bunch of us can go down together, Wendy and Starr and Winona and Averna. . . . Oh! I’m so excited!”
I had to smile at her enthusiasm, despite my trepidation. “I’m glad you can use the van. It’s more fun to go as a group.”
“Exactly! But at least you’re coming with Sailor. Will Oscar be all right on his own?”
“He’ll be fine.” I ignored the imploring look in his pink piggy eyes. “I do believe he might do a little laundry with all his spare time.”
* * *
When we approached Rodchester House, there was a young man standing at the old iron gates who checked a clipboard for our names, then instructed us to pull up the curved drive, past the mansion, and up to the left, where we could park “next to the purple van.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Are you night security?” asked Sailor, leaning over me to speak through the driver’s side window.
“Yeah, I’m on till nine. But there’s a caretaker on the grounds, in the cottage.”
“And what happens after nine?”
“We lock these gates. After all, here at the Rodchester House of Spirits, you can check in . . . ,” he said, then lowered his voice to a sinister note, “but you can’t check out!”
Sailor gave him a heavy-lidded look.
“Aw, I’m just kidding,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “The back gate’s modern and has a car-activated trigger, so you can leave, but you won’t be able to come back in past eight at night.”
“But no security on the grounds other than the caretaker?”
The guard looked as though he was searching for an answer. “Um . . .” He shrugged. “There’s always 911. You’re that worried, maybe you shouldn’t be spending the night.”
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