Patience looked thoughtful. “She wants to depose Aidan?”
I nodded.
“And would that be such a bad thing?” Patience asked.
“Renee is dangerous. Besides, I thought you liked Aidan.”
She shrugged. “I like him well enough. I mean, I don’t dislike him. But I don’t get into supernatural politics. They’re all a bunch of crooks. As far as I can see, power corrupts.”
“What’s Aidan’s story? Do you know?” I asked.
“All I know is he’s not a man to cross. The glamour he carries around with him sort of weirds me out. Makes me wonder what he’s hiding.”
“You know about the glamour?” I hadn’t realized anyone but me knew about Aidan’s glamour. “Have you seen Aidan’s real self?”
“Naw, I’m just hypersensitive to glamours,” Patience said. “I get within ten feet of one of them, it’s like nails on a chalkboard. But anyway, I like him for this: He can help us with Sailor.”
“Um . . . like I mentioned, Aidan might not be in the mood to help at the moment.”
“Then apologize, because we need his help. Either that or eat the cupcakes and get Renee-the-cupcake-lady on board, because—as much as it pains me to say this—I don’t think you and I alone have what it takes to get Sailor out of the slammer.”
It had never occurred to me to throw in with Renee. But Patience was right: We needed some help. We weren’t enough, not even as a united front.
No matter that Aidan and I weren’t always pals, and that he and I fought a lot—deep down I felt he was an ally. I didn’t trust him completely, but that was not unusual for alliances between magic folk. We were cagey that way. Also . . . I had once had a vision while in Aidan’s octagonal room. It included lachrymatories, a rain of blood, and other not-good things associated with Renee. According to Aidan, Renee was seeking a male counterpart for the coincidentia oppositorum—a sort of ancient covenant that had to do with the balancing of magical forces between two powerful practitioners. At that point she would be strong enough to go up against me and Aidan.
My thoughts turned to Selena, especially how easily she could be influenced—and her talents corrupted—at this point in her life. Then I considered my father, selling out for power. And I thought of the times I, myself, had been tempted. This was the problem with possessing extraordinary supernatural powers; it was far too easy to get carried away, to believe oneself above others, to manipulate and control. To slide on over to . . . whatever one wanted to call it: the dark side, the left-handed way, the wayward path. The God complex.
No, allying with Renee was not an option. She simply didn’t feel right to me. I just wished I knew more about Aidan’s background, what he was after as an end goal. I didn’t know what could happen in San Francisco, but not for the first time, it felt like I had been urged to come here for a reason. To fight the good fight. To fulfill the prophecy, perhaps.
I glanced at Patience, who was inspecting her perfectly manicured nails, and wondered if I could—or should—ask her about the prophecy. It embarrassed me, to tell the truth.
“What do you think the silverfish mean?” I asked.
“I told you: You need to fumigate.”
“But they’re restricted to the box. Also, there’s a distinct thumping sound coming from the box, from time to time.”
I broke the salt circle and went to the bookshelf, then brought my Book of Shadows back to the coffee table and flipped through the pages.
“Doesn’t say anything about silverfish in particular. Silver is a traditionally powerful metal for witches, as it reflects the light of the moon. And fish can be a sign of abundance and faith, or of fertility. Insects in general can be considered signs of resilience and steadfastness—or destruction and disease.” I shook my head, disappointed. “That’s all it says.”
I rewrapped the box in the rowan and knotted the twine, then stashed it back in the suitcase. Before leaving, I would ask Oscar to make double sure no one came upstairs and started poking around. No one ever had, but just in case, I wanted to be cautious.
“So you still don’t know what Tristan was after, exactly?” Patience asked.
“There’s no obvious bēag, no. I know Renee has been collecting lachrymatories, so perhaps it’s as simple as that. Or there’s the watch—Sailor had a vision with a watch. But that doesn’t tell us much or help me figure out what Tristan wanted from me.”
“So what’s next, then? I’m willing to do what I can to break Sailor out of the slammer, but I don’t have time to sit around.”
“We could go back to the hotel,” I suggested. “Maybe Hervé and I missed something last night. And then . . . it’s not too far from Fisherman’s Wharf. Probably if you’re with me, Aidan will be civil.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It’s not like there’s a handbook, you know. I’m open to suggestions.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh, whipped her scarf around her shoulders, and said: “I’ll say one thing for you, princess—you’ve got a cool car. I’ll drive.”
“When pigs fly.”
Chapter 15
There were three cop cars parked outside the Hotel Marais, so we rolled right on by, continuing down Bush Street. I pulled over in front of Café de la Presse, across from the Chinatown gates.
“You have a sudden need for an espresso?” Patience asked. “A copy of Le Monde to catch up on all the latest French news, perhaps?”
“Just taking a moment to rejigger the plan.”
“Is ‘rejigger’ a word?”
“It is where I come from.”
I was half hoping Patience would come up with some bright idea, but she just gazed out the window, arms crossed over her chest.
“You know, last night the hotel’s clerk, Shawn, told me Tristan hadn’t been feeling well and directed him to an apothecary in Chinatown. The same one Maya saw ‘Sailor’ in once.”
She arched an eyebrow at me. “And you haven’t checked it out yet?”
“It’s been
