“There’s no San Francisco in there,” he said.
“That’s because I haven’t left—” My stomach did a strange little flip. I really needed to speak to Aidan to address the threat posed to my adopted city by Renee-the-cupcake-lady. If we weren’t able to defeat her... would I have to leave? Would I become a wanderer again? If so, would Sailor come with me? Would Oscar? What about my friends?
Oscar pointed to a battered cardboard shoe box, sealed with duct tape and twine. It was wrapped in long-dried loops of rowan—a plant common to protection spells—and covered with hand-drawn symbols. My teenage attempt to keep evil at bay.
“What’s inthere?” he whispered.
I lifted the box from the suitcase. This was what had come to mind when Tristan accused me of stealing something from him.
The shoe box held the remnants of my meeting with my father in Germany, many years ago. When I wasjust seventeen and unsure of myself as a person, much less of my abilities as a witch. I had only vague memories of the reunion, lingering, disconnected flashes of images, like the snippets of a vivid dream—or, more aptly, a nightmare.
I hesitated. If I opened this box, would I learn something about my father, or our encounter, ormyself, that I had suppressed so long ago? Some memory that would be best left in the past, unremembered?
There was a reason I hadn’t opened it all these years. But I sensed it was time to deal with it, whether or not it was connected to Tristan.
I took a deep, calming breath and steeled myself. I wasn’t a teenager anymore but a grown woman and a powerful witch. The past months in San Francisco had taught me that I was stronger, and more in control of my magic, than I’d ever thought I could be.
“Hand me the pair of scissors on the chifforobe, will you?” I asked, sniffing loudly.
“You’re catching a cold.”
“I don’t get colds.”
“I didn’t think you were immortal.”
“I’m not immortal—I just don’t get colds. If my throat gets scratchy, I take garlic and lemon, or a spoonful of honey with turmeric, and then I’m all good.”
“’Kay. Maybe you should do that, because you’ve got a cold.”
Oscar leaned over and grabbed the scissors, then slowly, solemnly handed them to me.
His eyes remained on me, steady and wide. I started chanting as I cut through the rowan and the knotted threads, feeling the faint resistance from my teenage spell. I had been only partially trained when I was forced to leave my grandmother at the age of seventeen, but clearly I had done my darnedest to cast a binding spell over this otherwise innocuous-looking shoe box.
I sliced through the heavy packing twine, and finally snipped at the duct tape. The process took several minutes, and my chanting never faltered. Oscar watched intently, his mere presence adding strength and calm to the flow of energy through me... though to tell the truth, I felt something resisting my magic. Could the contents of the box be fighting against me, or could it be the remnants of my teenage spell?
Nonetheless, I completed the charm.
Taking one final deep breath, I lifted the lid off the box.
Chapter 4
Something inside slithered.
Oscar let out a screech and leapt onto the top of the armoire.
I managed to slide the cover, still looped in rowan, back into place and jumped back. I grabbed a few crystals and a tiger’s-eye talisman from my nightstand and slapped them down on top of the shoe box. From inside the box came a distinctivethump.
“What the heck isthat?” Oscar growled.
“I’m not sure,” I choked out, my heart pounding. I met my familiar’s eyes. “I think I might need to take a few more precautions before opening it.”
“Yathink?”
“No need to be sarcastic.”
“What you should do is take the whole kit ’n’ caboodle to Maaaaiiister Aidan. See if he can find the whatchamahoozit that Tristan guy’s lookin’ for.”
“I thought you were afraid of Aidan?”
