He puffed out his scaly chest. “Oscar’s notafraidofanything. It’s just that... I have other things to do tonight. I was going to use the cloak you gave me.”
“The cloak? What will you use it for?”
A while back I had come across an enchanted cloak that had the ability to transport the wearer through time and space, to places one had been before. To compensate Oscar for the loss of his wings, I had given it to him. From time to time, Oscar would disappear for a day or two, but I had not realized he was using the travel cloak.
Oscar shrugged. “You’re not the only one with important things to do, ya know.”
“Well, now, that’s fair,” I said.
Now that Oscar and I were no longer truly witch and familiar, he had his own path to follow. And like me, he tended to keep his cards close to his chest. It was entirely possible he was simply meeting some magical friends for a round of margaritas, guacamole, and gossip, though he might also be on some kind of magical mission. Oscar liked to play it cool, but I knew he loved San Francisco as much as I did. This was our adopted home.
Once again, I thought of the impending threat to our beautiful City by the Bay. I wasn’t even sure precisely what the threatwas, but I’d sensed long ago that my arrival in San Francisco wasn’t entirely accidental. Aidan and I had banded together to try to strengthen our magical alliances for the big supernatural showdown, whenever that might occur. I knew Renee-the-cupcake-lady was involved, but didn’t know exactly how.
Could Tristan’s sudden appearance somehow be connected?
“Okey-dokey,” I said, trying to sound casual, hoping to reassure Oscar—or myself?—that creepy strangers and sealed shoe boxes with mysterious slitherycontents were all in a day’s work. “I’m going to just wrap that puppy up and go see Aidan. If you travel tonight, promise me you’ll be careful?”
He waved his oversized hand and grimaced, his version of a smile.
I took a carved pendant from the top drawer of my dresser. It was a crescent moon, symbol of good luck for travelers, carved with the Algiz protection rune. I had made it from a branch of an old tree from Calypso’s ancient peach orchard, polished it with olive oil beside the flame of a white candle, bathed it in goat’s milk, and consecrated it under the silvery light of the waning moon.
I slipped it around Oscar’s neck, then patted the pendant against his chest while incanting a quick charm.
Oscar’s huge eyes grew even wider, and he looked as though he was about to cry. “Mistress is very good to me.”
“Well, I’d surely hate to lose you again.” With a pang, I remembered the time he had disappeared: how desperate I had been to find him, and just how far I was willing to go to get him back. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, and come back to me safe and sound, yes?”
“I promise,” he said with a quick nod. Eyeing the shoe box suspiciously, he added: “You, too, mistress. You, too.”
• • •
Thank goodness Graciela’s coven had been waylaid by the lure of sea otters, I thought as I wrapped the shoe box in red felt, then black silk, before adding beads of lapis lazuli and Apache tears and finishing with a braided cord of black, red, purple, and orange silk threads, which I knotted while chanting a binding spell.
I sat back on my haunches on the bed, letting out a quick breath. I hoped that would be enough to hold whatever it was until I could ask for Aidan’s help.
I sneezed again and remembered that, while chanting the spell earlier, I had sensed a resistance, a certain lack of my regular energy. Normally Oscar’s mere presence was more than enough to open the portals, to allow the energy to slip back and forth beyond the veil. Was it simply the remnants of the spell I had cast on the box as a teenager, or could I really be catching a cold? And if so, was it having an effect on my magic?
No time to worry about that now.I loaded my woven Filipino backpack with mason jars full of a general protective brew, my special salts, and a variety of small stones and talismans. There was really no such thing as “all-purpose” magical supplies, since the individuality of each situation had to be respected or a spell wouldn’t work properly. But I prepared the best I could. After I’d carefully tucked the resealed shoe box under one arm and slipped down the stairs, I walked through the shop and out the front door. The bell tinkled merrily as I slipped out.
I hurried around the corner to the driveway where I parked my vintage cherry red Mustang. As I drove toward the tourist mecca of Fisherman’s Wharf, and the newly rebuilt wax museum, I realized: Sailor had promised to call... but he hadn’t.
• • •
The young woman in the wax museum ticket booth didn’t like me. I had once saved Clarinda’s life, but even that didn’t appear to have altered her opinion as to my general character. She wore a lot of white face powder, heavy eyeliner, and black lipstick, and always appeared bored to the point of falling asleep.
A very jaded Queen of the Dead.
“Howdy!” I greeted her cheerfully, because I knew it annoyed her. “Is Aidan in?”
She looked up from the battered paperback she wasreading and sneered. Her eyes flickered down to the shoe box under my arm.
“Gotta buy a ticket,” she said.
“Actually, I don’t,” I replied. We’d had this conversation before. Repeatedly. “I’ll just go on up and see him, then, all right?”
She shrugged.
Outside, the newly rebuilt tourist attraction had remounted its old-movie-poster-like placards featuring famous figures from the worlds of sports and popular music, as well as the ever-popular vampires and various torture devices in the Chamber of Horrors. But inside, the wax museum didn’t look much like the old one.
