“Only in the box?”
“I’ve never seen them elsewhere. They appear to be contained.”
She met my eyes and our gaze held for so long I became hyperaware of the sound of the ticking clock. I heard a soft cat’s meow, a bird’s faraway call. I noticed the African violets turning their faces toward her. Finally, she nodded.
“I’m not psychic, Lily. I have my magical moments, but they have to do with plants, nothing more.”
“But it was more before, wasn’t it? Aidan told me that you used to be in charge around here.”
She shrugged it off. “‘In charge’ makes it sound much more official than it actually was. You’ve been in San Francisco long enough to know there are a lot of disparate personalities, and yet sometimes the community needs to band together. Especially when going up against outside threats.”
“What kind of threat were you facing when Aidan arrived?”
A profound sadness came into her eyes. She crossed the room to stand near the plants, checking their soil for moisture, snipping off a few dead leaves. “It was . . . it was difficult. A challenger came under the influence of the wrong elements. She called on a demon to act as her coincidentia oppositorum.”
“That sounds like a really bad idea.”
“It was. It made her witchcraft incredibly potent, but she was willing to do just about anything to gain power.”
“What happened to her?”
“She departed, to the spirit world.”
“How?”
“Aidan killed her.”
Chapter 25
“Aidan did what?”
“He did it to save my life. I begged him not to, to let her live. I never wanted to be saddled with the guilt of anyone’s death, to trade my life for another. But Aidan said he did it for everyone’s good, that more than just my life was at stake.”
I sat silent, stunned by what she had said.
“I never wanted that legacy,” she continued, angry now. “Aidan wouldn’t listen; as usual he did what he thought best. He’s ruthless. Not uncaring, but ruthless.”
“But if he loved you, of course he did what was necessary to save your life.”
“Who said he loved me?”
I remembered seeing a photo of the two of them on her mantel. It had been taken many years ago; Calypso looked much younger in the photo than she did now, while Aidan looked exactly the same. But what had struck me was the expression on his face: open and guileless, an easy smile. In all the time I’d known him, I had never seen him smile like that, or seem so relaxed and natural.
“I know you two were once together, so I assumed . . .”
“People can be together without being in love,” she said, her tone bitter and dismissive. The tabby seemed to sense her discomfort and leapt into her lap. She caressed him, and calmed. “Anyway, I’d rather not talk about this anymore.”
“Could I just ask you—how does the coincidentia oppositorum work, exactly? I thought it involved a man and a woman, but you say a demon could be the other half . . . ?”
“It’s all about balance. Traditionally it was a man and a woman, but as you know, gender is fluid. As are so many other things. People interpret the world differently these days.”
“Interesting. I . . . Well, Aidan says my relationship to Sailor makes me vulnerable.”
Calypso didn’t answer immediately. Her hands slowly stroked the cat in her lap. He purred so loudly I could hear him from where I sat.
Finally, she let out a sigh. “In a sense, any relationship makes us vulnerable, don’t you think? I’ve always thought that was at the core of our strength as magical women, to allow ourselves vulnerability. It certainly does make things more complicated, however. If Aidan feels he must stand alone, that is his choice. It doesn’t have to be yours.”
Something skittered past again. Low to the floor, but not a cat.
“What was that?” I asked. “Did you see something run by?”
“That’s Finnall,” said Calypso.
“What’s a Finnall?”
She gave a soft, low laugh. “That’s his name. He’s my mandragora. Aidan made him for me.”
I opened my mouth to inform her that I had made it, but decided against it.
“Do you know mandragoras?” Calypso continued. “They’re a kind of household imp. They can be very useful in sussing out poisons, rotten fruit, that sort of thing. Finnall is priceless in my produce business. And he keeps me company.”
“Where did he go?”
“He’s sitting on the shelf,” she whispered, gesturing with her head. “He’s shy.”
I glanced at the bookshelf and there he sat, legs entwined primly. He looked like a little carved doll. No one would assume he was anything more.
I was happy to think Finnall kept Calypso company, but was suspicious enough of Aidan to wonder if he had an ulterior motive in giving Calypso the mandragora, especially since he had claimed to have made it himself. Could Finnall be acting as a spy of some kind, as I had long suspected Oscar of doing?
“Now that I think about it,” said Calypso, “Finnall might be of help with this. I don’t suppose you brought one of the silverfish from the box?”
“I happen to have one right here,” I said as I extracted the small jam jar from my backpack. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Safe? That’s a tough one. I’m not overly worried, though. Also, we’ll need an image of Sailor, or some item of his,” Calypso continued as she gathered, then began grinding dried leaves and seeds in a massive marble mortar and pestle.
“Why do we need something of Sailor’s?”
“Isn’t he what all this fuss is about, at the end of the day?”
I took the small photo of Sailor out of my wallet and set it on the counter.
Calypso continued mashing herbs and pods together, then added club moss from the redwood forest.
“I didn’t know you brewed,” I said as I watched, fascinated. Most practitioners weren’t so transparent about their methods.
“I don’t brew, per se,” said Calypso. “But I do mix.”
I didn’t see the mandragora move, but suddenly he was sitting near the mortar and pestle, the photo of Sailor in
