“Of course,” I said with a smile. “I’ve already bought all the ingredients. Oscar and I will whip up a batch right after dinner.”
“Wonderful! Oh, by the way, did you pick up your messages? Maya found something she thought might interest you, about that symbol she was researching. She left a note with your mail.”
“Thanks, I’ll go check it out.”
As I hung up, I wondered whether it would be better not to involve Carlos. After all, what could I tell him? That Wind Spirit was stronger than she looked, and that she was fond of cupcakes? I could hear him laughing now. Carlos was far too polite to actually laugh at me, but he’d give me that incredulous look of his, which was even worse. I could mention the mushrooms, I supposed, but that was about the only possible tangible link to Tristan’s murder.
Maybe it would be better to talk to Wind Spirit myself at the Magical Match Tea and try to coax her to admit her involvement. I had it on good authority that I could be very persuasive. . . .
While I sat on my bed, pondering, my gaze alighted on the closet door. It was slightly ajar.
I hadn’t left it that way.
I knew I hadn’t left it that way. I might leave dishes in the sink, toss my nightgown in a corner, or let my Keds lie where they fell, but I was a nut about closing drawers and closet doors. It was the result of early training; in Graciela’s house, there were things that had to be kept secured behind closed doors.
I surged off the bed, threw the closet door open, and looked for the shoe box.
Gone.
“Did I hear something about whipping up some cookies?” Oscar called out from the other room.
“Oscar.” I ran into the living room. “Did you go into my room, or my closet?”
“’Course not. I haven’t even been around for the last day, remember? What’s wrong?”
“My shoe box is missing.”
“The creepy one? No offense, mistress, but no great loss as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s important, Oscar. Who could have taken it? Among other things, whoever came in here was able to overcome my protection spells. Think about it that way.”
“Good point. See what happens when Oscar isn’t on the job? You think I’m just sitting around, but I provide what I like to call ‘preventive services.’ You sure you didn’t leave it somewhere else?”
“I’m absolutely sure.” I sneezed once again. Had Renee really cast a befuddling spell over me? And if so, had it dulled my senses enough so that I couldn’t call out to the Ashen Witch? Had it diminished my abilities even to cast protection over my store and home?
Unsure where to even start looking for the shoe box, I decided to check out the information Maya had left me.
“Oscar, I’m going down to the shop to get the mail. Want to be my guard pig?”
Oscar’s green eyes widened. “You’re really that spooked, mistress?”
“Just trying not to act a fool, as my mother used to say. If someone was able to waltz in here and take something from my closet, all bets are off.”
“All right, then,” Oscar said, puffing out his chest. “Let’s go.”
We descended the stairs carefully, keeping our eyes and ears peeled. We had rushed through the store earlier, so now I looked for anything that looked out of place. I flicked on the lights in the back room and the store, but everything seemed as serene as ever. Oscar made a big deal about trotting through all the aisles of the shop floor and investigating behind the mannequins.
I was checking behind the register when I noticed Oscar had opened the door to the mini-fridge.
“Pretty sure no one’s hiding in there, Oscar,” I said.
“You never know,” he said with a quick cackle. “In fact—Wind Spirit.”
“Excuse me?” I went to join him in the back room, and Oscar ran to hide behind my skirts, pointing toward the green linoleum-topped table.
Hiding underneath the table was the witch named Wind Spirit, formerly known as Amy.
Chapter 26
I stroked my medicine bag, assessing the situation. According to Bronwyn, Wind Spirit was a martial arts expert. And if she had been ruthless enough to go after Tristan Dupree, she was more than dangerous—she was homicidal.
Then again, I had Oscar with me. Currently he was cowering behind my skirt, but I’d seen him in action; once Oscar got riled, he was a force to be reckoned with. Still, what if Wind Spirit had a weapon? Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her baby-doll dress, so I couldn’t be sure. Even a gobgoyle couldn’t fend off a speeding bullet.
“Wind Spirit. What are you doing here?” I demanded.
She shook her head, but said nothing.
“Come out from under there, and let’s talk,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady and as light as possible. “What are you looking for? Did you come for the shoe box?”
She continued to stare. I realized her eyes looked hollow, as blank as those of the “Sailor” who wasn’t actually my fiancé. A shiver ran down my spine.
“Are you . . . are you the doppelgänger?”
She shook her head again and jumped out and up from under the table. Now I was sure. It was Wind Spirit, and yet not Wind Spirit. Her face looked like her, but she seemed much smaller than she had before. It was confusing, disorienting to see her like this.
She moved slowly, lurching toward us, her movements jerky, as though her muscles were rusty or out of practice. Oscar and I stumbled back another couple of steps. I could hear my familiar mumbling: “Gack! She’s like the Mummy!”
Yes, she was creepy, but I thought of what Aidan had said: Maybe the doppelgänger had chased me all over Chinatown because he’d been trying to communicate.
“Amy!” I yelled. I never could get used to her new name. “Stop, and talk to me. Tell us what you want.”
And then I remembered the boy in the Chinatown apothecary telling
