I considered winding the wristwatch to see if it worked, but remembered seeing this same watch nestled with the broken eggs in my vision. Probably it was merely symbolic of my father betraying me, but just in case . . . I set the watch, unwound, on my bedside table, alongside my parents’ wedding photo, and the one of me as a toddler.
All that was left in the box were the last vestiges of herbs and the silverfish. Very special silverfish, apparently, which could be used to cast glamours. They might come in handy someday, if I took the time to experiment a little and discover how to use them.
As I went to close the box, I noticed with astonishment that the creepy little fellows had arranged themselves in the shape of Deliverance Corydon’s mark.
• • •
The day dawned bright and cheery, a beautiful spring morning for the Magical Match Tea. Officially the event started at eleven, but the steering committee showed up early to finish setting up.
Tables were covered with colorful cloths, plates were stacked, and silverware was put into jars. Food arrived by the carload: platters of cookies and petits fours, trays of finger sandwiches and cupcakes, and bowls of fruit. There were vats of coffee and tea, and pitchers of juice and punch. Maya had put together a playlist that featured a mix of old and new tunes, and there was a good deal of dancing while we finished our preparations.
We were a raucous, excited, and extremely well-dressed crowd.
Maya and Lucille wore matching turquoise dresses patterned with little sprigs of bright red cherries. Bronwyn’s twelve-year-old granddaughter, Imogen, wore an actual vintage dress in a pretty butter yellow with white embroidery, while Bronwyn wore a version that Lucille had skillfully produced to match the original. Selena and I were matching in our polka-dot dresses, and the rest of the coven sisters came with an assortment of daughters, nieces, and granddaughters. Starr brought her two foster daughters, forming a matching trio instead of a pair. Wendy brought her barista buddy, Xander; they were outfitted in matching corsets and black boots with faded jeans. They both looked quite fetching.
“Where’s Wind Spirit?” I asked the group, checking my watch. “It’s almost ten thirty.”
“She texted me that she had to pick up some cupcakes,” Starr said. “Said she was running late.”
“Looks like we have plenty of cupcakes already,” I said.
“She wanted to be sure there were more than enough, Lily,” Bronwyn explained. “It’s just the way she is.”
If Wind Spirit really was working with Renee, I reflected, she wasn’t trying to hide it. Then again, why would she? How in the world was I supposed to prove that she had cast a glamour to look like Sailor while attacking and murdering Tristan?
Conrad declined to attend the actual tea, but accepted a muffin and the smoothie I had made for him with the special brew I concocted last night. He announced he would stand outside and act as doorman.
“I’ll keep our little porker friend out here with me if you want.”
“Good idea. That way he won’t be underfoot. I’ll bring you both some snacks later.” Something occurred to me. “Conrad, do you know what time Amoeba Records opens?”
“Dude, I love that place. It opens at eleven, every day of the week. Want me to run and buy you an LP? I didn’t even know you had a record player.”
“I don’t, actually. I was just wondering. Thanks for staffing the door.”
“Happy to do it.”
I looked up and down the street. Still no sign of Wind Spirit or Renee. But others were beginning to arrive; from both directions, women—young, old, and in between—wearing matching dresses were walking toward Aunt Cora’s Closet. It was a sight to see.
“Dude,” said Conrad.
“Dude,” I echoed in agreement.
Soon the shop was crowded with chattering partygoers. Most were women; other than Xander, only one brave man had taken us up on the invitation and wore a sort of late-1970s jumpsuit that matched the one his daughter wore. The two of them stood together, beaming with pride. I welcomed several Aunt Cora’s Closet regulars, as well as Haight Street neighbors.
“Here comes Renee,” said Maya quietly. She had sidled up to me without my noticing, so intent was I on the arrivals.
I stroked my medicine bag for strength, and to help me focus.
“Accompanied by Wind Spirit, in matching cupcake dresses.” Just as I’d thought. They carried large pink bakery boxes, which they set down on a nearby refreshment table. Wind Spirit started removing the cupcakes from the boxes and setting them on plates, while Renee worked the crowd, the picture of ease and contentment.
Surely she wouldn’t have dosed cupcakes that were for the general public, would she? Was I willing to take that chance?
“How does Wind Spirit know Renee, do you suppose?” asked Maya.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll bet it has something to do with cupcakes.” I continued to watch Wind Spirit, trying to determine if she was left-handed. She was using both hands to put out the cupcakes, not seeming to favor either one.
“You want me to . . . keep an eye on them, or something?” Maya asked. “I’m not sure what I should be on the lookout for, but I’m happy to try.”
“That’s okay, Maya. Thanks, though. Mostly I want to get Wind Spirit alone to see if I can get her to tell me anything,” I said.
“Wind Spirit? I thought you told me you were worried about Renee?”
“I’m worried about both of them. It’s . . . a long story.”
Maya nodded. “So what else is new, right? I’ll go ask Renee to tell me about her
