“He says it makes me vulnerable. That I need to concentrate on myself and my powers, and work with him to keep San Francisco safe. He thinks... I know it sounds a little strange, but Aidan thinks we’re thecoincidentia oppositorum, the male and female. Hesays a witch like me can’t maintain my power while in a romantic relationship.”
“Aidan said that about you and Sailor? That’s kind of harsh.”
Her response surprised me. “I thought you’d agree with him.”
“I don’t understand Sailor’s fascination with you, but so what? Who am I to question the ways of the heart? I mean, he’s pretty over the moon for you—anyone can see that.” She shrugged. “I’d love to split you two up by agreeing with Aidan, but I don’t. We’re women, not nuns. Why can’t a woman fall in love and still be powerful? I don’t hear anyone saying that about men. Do you?”
“To be fair, Aidan says that’s why he’s not with anyone.”
“I don’t know, Lily—maybe he has a point. Maybe relationships do make us vulnerable—but so what? Maybe the ability to connect with others, in this world and in the next, is what makes us powerful. Have you thought about that?”
I couldn’t help but smile. Seems Patience and I shared some common ground, after all.
“How about you?” I ventured. “Is there someone special in your life?”
She snorted. “Just because I don’t buy what Aidan’s selling doesn’t mean we’re BFFs. I’m not here to share secrets of the heart over flavored coffee and biscotti. We have more important things to do.”
“Fair enough,” I said. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, Patience’s words would have stung. Not anymore.Not everyone will want to be a friend,Bronwyn had told me.If you try and fail, oh, well. Move on.
“So where’s this mysterious box of yours?” asked Patience.
I brought the shoe box out of my bedroom and set iton the coffee table. I wouldn’t make the mistake I had with Oscar, of underestimating the weight of my memories, and the power of my grief. Though I couldn’t remember much of what had happened with my father in Germany, I knew it had been traumatic.
The thought of my father in that burned-out manor house... it made me shiver.
Then Jamie’s words came back to me. He claimed Tristan Dupree had come to San Francisco to work with Renee. But before going to see Renee, Tristan had come here, to Aunt Cora’s Closet, to recover something from me. If Jamie was telling the truth, did Tristan’s death make me even more of an enemy to Renee? Was I her target now? Did this mean she was after the beag? What would keep her from sending Jamie—or another one of her lackeys—to ransack my place one day when I wasn’t home, in search of the beag Tristan had been looking for? Could her magic overcome my beefed-up protection spell?
“What’s all that?” Patience asked while I gathered my supplies in a basket, then brought them to the coffee table.
I held up a jar with a narrow spout. “These are my special salts—ordinary table salt would do for most threats, but I’m going to pull out the big guns for this box.”
“I think that’s best,” she said with a nod. “What do you need me to do?”
“Watch, don’t interfere, and follow my lead.”
I poured a thin line of salt in a circle around the box, chanting:
At this place and in this time,
lock tight the doors of our minds.
Spirits who wander, spirits who keep,
do not bring our souls to weep,
guardians of the night and arts,
shield the keys to our hearts.
Glancing up at Patience, who sat silently watching me, I felt a wave of self-consciousness.
“That’s how it goes,” I said, my tone defensive. “It’s a protection spell.”
“Rock on, witchy woman.”
I almost never cast in front of others. But since this was for Sailor, I repeated the chant over and over, forcing myself to focus my intent.
I wished I had thought to bring Oscar with us. Even though he’s not a typical witch’s familiar, he shares with familiars one very important characteristic: He eases my spellcasting, helping me to open the portals to the next world and beyond more easily. Still, Oscar wouldn’t be able to transform in front of Patience, and I wasn’t sure whether he would be as helpful in his piggy form. We’d never had reason to try.
