Now in addition to the worry in her eyes, I saw pain. She turned away.
“Graciela? Is it true?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know there’s a prophecy, but it had to do with your father, not you specifically.”
“But through him, me, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Graciela, you aren’t making any sense. Please don’t talk in riddles.”
“I was going to wait to tell you this, but I guess there’s no point. The truth is, the prophecy referred to your father’s child.”
“Right. But I’m an only child.”
Graciela held my gaze for a long moment.
“You’re saying . . . ,” I ventured, “I’m not his only child? You’re saying I have a sibling?”
“I thought he was dead. We all did. But lately there have been some signs. . . . Anyway, it’s possible he’s coming to San Francisco. Lucky we’re here, right? Let’s get going, m’ija. We should consult with the coven about this.”
I mulled over this disturbing revelation while I loaded the boxes of leftovers, plus Graciela and Oscar, into the car, and ran back to Aunt Cora’s Closet to grab my bag and coat and lock up.
As I grabbed my keys, I felt a shiver of premonition, the bell over the door tinkled, and I turned around to see Sailor stride into the store.
I blasted him with a wall of energy, and he hit the wall with a loud grunt.
“Ow,” he said as he straightened, rubbing his shoulder. “I really dislike it when you do that. I hope you don’t plan on resorting to violence after we’re married.”
“Sailor? I’m so sorry!” I threw myself into his arms. “It’s you!”
“Of course it’s me.” He chuckled and hugged me. “What is going on?”
“How did you get out? Are you off the hook?”
“I don’t know if it was Carlos, the cupcakes, or what, but apparently they figured they didn’t have enough to make the charges stick. Since Dupree died of poisoning, and they couldn’t find any blood evidence to link me to the beating, they’re dropping the complaint. Also, now they’ve got some guy in custody who claims he was responsible . . . ?”
I hugged him again. “Oh, I can’t believe you’re here. I want to introduce you to my grandmother. She’s waiting in the car. Can you come to Bolinas with us?”
“Why not? I’m free as the proverbial bird.”
We went around the corner to the car.
“Abuelita, this is Sailor. Sailor, this is my grandmother Graciela.”
Sailor took her hand in his, and they stared at each other for a long while. Finally, Sailor said, “Nice jacket.”
“It’s new. I like how it sparkles.”
“It suits you.”
Graciela stuck her chin out, and nodded. “He’ll do. It’ll be a challenge, but he’ll do.”
One side of Sailor’s mouth kicked up in a crooked smile. “I’ll take that. And I guess I’ll just climb on in the back with the pig, unless you want me to drive.”
I smiled. “I’ve got this. You just relax. We’re going to drive our convertible over the Golden Gate Bridge, like— Was it Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn?”
“One of those,” said Graciela with a wave of her hand. “I looked just like one of them when I was your age. Especially in a classy getup like this one.”
Chapter 30
Calypso’s house, as predicted, was full of laughter and lively discussion about everything from the proper way to brew lavender lemonade to the best order in which to plant the “three sisters”: maize, beans, and squash.
Sailor, as the only male on the premises besides Oscar, held up well under the ardent grilling of Graciela, my mother, and the other coven sisters. It got so intense that Calypso stepped in to help him out from time to time, but I figured he could hold his own.
Just watching him sitting there, patiently answering questions, cracking the occasional joke, and sending me steamy looks across the room, made me feel flushed all over.
Sailor was out of jail. Exonerated. And he would be in my bed tonight.
Okay, Aidan was right: Sailor and I should probably talk and get a few important things worked out prior to the handfasting. We had some time—not very much, but a little—before we got married. And I didn’t want to put off the ceremony, among other reasons, because I could not wait for the honeymoon.
The only thing that worried me now was Oscar. He was decidedly mopey. Oscar wasn’t one to hide his feelings.
I called him outside, and we walked along a path into the redwoods so he could change into his natural form. I took a seat on a fallen log and patted the space next to me. He sat.
“What’s up, little guy?” I asked him, nudging him with my elbow.
He shrugged and looked petulant, refusing to meet my eyes.
“You know, just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean anything changes between you and me. We have a special bond. You’re the only familiar I’ve ever had, or ever will have.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just . . . I heard Conrad say he’s gonna go see his mom. And you’re talking to your mom after all these years.”
“You’re missing your mom?”
His eyes were huge, and I saw tears in his eyes.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever find her at this point,” he said.
“Oh, come on, now, what kind of attitude is that? You told me gargoyles live for centuries. I mean . . . have you even checked the top of Notre-Dame?”
“She wouldn’t be someplace as obvious as that,” he scoffed.
“How can you be sure? Have you been?”
“No, I figured that couldn’t be right. It’s too touristy.”
“It wasn’t touristy when the gargoyles first went up. And that’s not the only place in France: there’s Mont-Saint-Michel, in Normandy. Or how about Spain? There’s San Juan de los Reyes Monastery in Toledo, and the Palau de la Generalitat de Catalunya in Barcelona. I remember seeing a bunch on the cathedral in Quito, Ecuador, too.”
“I heard they had gargoyles in the Forbidden City, in Beijing,” Oscar said, warming to the theme. “And you don’t even have to go that far. Someone told me there are gargoyles at
