“According to Carlos, Tristan was already sick by then, so it’s likely he was in a weakened state. And Wind Spirit is stronger than she looks. She has a black belt in some form of martial art; Bronwyn mentioned Wind Spirit was all muscle under those baby-doll dresses she always wears,” I said, starting to weave the threads together. “The fake Sailor kept checking a watch—maybe the clock was ticking on how long Wind Spirit could sustain the glamour. Also, Patience said Renna thought the fake Sailor looked short. Maybe Wind Spirit couldn’t get the glamour quite right. I wonder if she’s left-handed. . . .”
“All these people trading places with other people.” Oscar shook his head. “It’s a downright shame, is what it is.”
“Hey!” I said so loudly that Oscar jumped. “Sorry. But it just occurred to me: You’re a shape-shifter.”
“Yeaaaah . . . ?”
“Is that anything like a glamour?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you’re in your piggy guise, is it a glamour of some sort?”
“Like you just said, I’m a shape-shifter.”
“So it’s not the same thing?”
He started snickering, then cackled loudly as tears of mirth ran down his scaly cheeks.
“You absolutely slay me when you say things like that!”
I blew out a frustrated breath and sat back in my seat. One of these days I was going to lock myself in Aidan’s office and read every tome in his library, and then I would go to Calypso’s house and read every book in her library, and then I would know things. All the things. What was real and what was not, what was merely magical, and what was impossible.
Even so, not everything I wanted to know would be found within books. Probably I needed another decade or two of instruction with Graciela’s coven. Imagine what I could learn, how powerful I could become. . . .
I wrenched myself out of that daydream as we reached the Golden Gate Bridge. That sort of thinking was dangerous. Just as the wild, savage ocean met the serene bay under this bridge, the wide-open world of magic could entice a person to explore too far. Where currents became irresistible, and the force of the tides might drag a person out to parts unknown, drowning her in the process.
Then again, I was a witch. Last time someone attempted to drown me, I popped up like a cork.
Witches don’t sink.
• • •
Aunt Cora’s Closet was closed up tight by the time we got back to the city, though Haight Street was hopping as usual on a Friday night. A thick layer of fog had rolled in off the ocean, blanketing the streets and sidewalks and lending a spooky atmosphere to the neighborhood. I kept thinking of that parrot, so long ago, telling me to go to San Francisco, but to “mark the fog.”
An inebriated couple sang “Over the Rainbow,” loudly and off-key, as they reeled down the sidewalk; I brushed past them and quickly let myself—and Oscar—into the shop. I could hear them crying out, “Oh my God, a pig!” as I quickly shut and locked the door, waved without turning around, and scurried into the back room.
I was in no mood for fun this evening.
As we hurried up the stairs, my mind raced. What should I do with my concerns about Wind Spirit? Should I ask Carlos to check her out? As usual, my suspicions were based on very little substance.
I would call Bronwyn first, I decided. For all I knew, she might have been with Wind Spirit when Tristan was attacked, and could offer her coven sister a hard- and-fast alibi.
“I’m feeling a mite peckish, how ’bout you?” Oscar said as we entered the upstairs apartment. “I thought Calypso was gonna whip up something good in that mortar of hers, but it turned out to be nothing but some crazy-ass glamour magic.”
“There’s some lasagna in the freezer; why don’t you preheat the oven while I make a call?”
Then I went into the bedroom and dialed Bronwyn’s number. I explained to her I had reason to suspect Wind Spirit was involved in Tristan’s death, and in setting up Sailor.
Bronwyn sounded stunned and stammered, “I—I just can’t imagine how that could be true, Lily. I mean, I . . . Wind Spirit is an initiate to the Welcome coven. We’re all about peace and light.”
“I know it’s hard to imagine, Bronwyn, but maybe she was just using you, and the coven, to get close to what’s going on. Or as cover, so no one discovered her motives.”
“I simply can’t believe it.”
“I know it’s hard to wrap your mind around. But sometimes friends aren’t all we would want them to be. Of course, I could well be wrong, but if you give me her last name and a phone number, I could ask Carlos to speak with her and see whether or not there’s anything to worry about.”
“Carlos will speak to her personally?”
“You know he’ll be polite, and discreet. It’s . . . You’re right—I’m probably wrong. But we have to check this out. Just imagine if I’m right.”
“Of course.” Bronwyn gave me Amy’s last name and phone number. “What will this mean for the Magical Match Tea? She’s part of the steering committee!”
I didn’t point out that the entire coven was part of the steering committee. “We’ll be fine. Oh! See, that’s another thing—remember how insistent Wind Spirit was that we should serve Renee Baker’s cupcakes at the Magical Match Tea?”
“They really are wonderful cupcakes, Lily. I don’t understand why you’re so mistrustful.”
I realized it was difficult not to fill my friends in on all the goings-on. How best to tell them what I feared about the cupcake lady?
“I have reason not to trust Renee, Bronwyn, and so do you. I can’t fill you in on all the details right now, but please believe me when I say she’s not what she seems.”
“If she concerns you, Lily, that’s good enough for me. We can make our own cupcakes, after all!”
“I believe I’m down for three dozen cookies, as a matter of fact.”
“Oooh, your special macadamia nut chocolate
