“This doesn’t feel right,” she said, patting at the pockets. “It feels creepy to be wearing Mom’s coat.”
“Let me see it, please.”
My sister shrugged out of the garment and passed it to our aunt. Maritza lifted it by the shoulders and took her time examining the cloth, the long lapels, the buttons, and even the buttonholes. She turned the coat around, noted the belt across the back and the vent down the center back, and declared it a well-assembled garment. “Moira’s magic permeates every stitch and is especially potent”—Maritza turned the coat again and pointed to a small pocket I’d missed, hidden behind the left lapel—“here.”
She stuck her fingertip inside the pocket and lifted out a coiled braid of hair tied with a bit of pink silk embroidery floss.
Closing her eyes, she let the coat hang as she held the coil in front of her.
“These strands come from each of her daughters and she kept them over her heart.” Maritza curled her fingers around the braid, dropped the coat, and clutched her findings to her own heart.
“Tía?”
Maritza shook her head and sniffled. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m getting us off track. I am occasionally pierced to the bone by how much I miss my sister.” She looked at her palm. “I’d like to keep this, as a reminder that Malvyn and I are next in line to protect the three of you.”
“Protect and educate and invite home for the holidays,” said Beryl. “And yes, as far as I’m concerned, you are welcome to keep that memento. There’s plenty in here and downstairs for me and Clementine and Alderose to divide.”
I picked up the coat. “I feel like I should wear this when I enter the circle. And the scissors. Just in case.” I stuffed the knit cap into one of the coat’s pockets.
“I agree. But wait until you are inside and the protection and containment spells have been cast.” Maritza bundled her hair into a topknot and pushed up her sleeves. “Let’s get this ball rolling. Beryl will remain on the outside. Her task is to raise or lower the walls of the circle, should the need arise. She will also tie us in—literally—using the thread we found in your mother’s desk.”
“Is it a special kind of thread?”
“Most certainly. Every time you cast a circle for the purpose of practicing magic, whether you use traditional items like salt and candles or you improvise, you create the potential for a completely unique experience.
“Because of the nature of my sister’s work, I believe she kept a record of every casting she did. While you were downstairs, Beryl found boxes of glass slides in a drawer of Moira’s desk. Each slide contains a name, a coil of thread, and a date. We haven’t had time to correlate that information with what is in her ledgers, but I believe the slides belong to either the client or their match.”
“Or both?”
“Whoa…”
“Yeah, that was my reaction,” Beryl said.
“What else do we need now, for this casting?”
“A purpose, an intention, even simply a question,” said Maritza. “Do you have one ready?”
“I have so many questions all lined up on the tip of my tongue,” I said, “but I’m guessing you’re going to advise me to keep it simple.”
“Yes. Can you separate your questions, perhaps combine the ones most relevant to our purposes, and come up with one or two?”
I nodded as I walked to the open section of the curving line of salt. “Where did Mom stash her financial records, and where are her notes about how she found matches for her clients. How does that sound?”
“Those questions are both succinct and general enough for you to be able to attract adjacent story threads. Ready?”
“Ready.”
9
I was inside the salt circle, making myself comfortable, when I flashed on an idea. I tugged the container of mascara out of my back pocket and waved it in my sister’s direction. “Beryl, would you be willing to pop down to the cellar and get that oval mirror for me?”
“Clementine, are you nuts?”
“But what if using the mirror and the mascara within the circle of containment would actually help me see more?”
“And what if it allows you to see too much? Clemmie, I—”
“Girls, I have a possible solution. Beryl, you are correct in voicing concern about the power of your mother’s mirror. Alabastair carries one that has been spelled to enhance encounters with ghosts and shades. I think it would be perfectly reasonable for Clementine to use his mirror within our circle. Times like these a more generic tool that carries no burdensome backstory is a Goddess-send.” Maritza spun to face the table, unhooked a set of latches on the underside of the valise’s lid, and removed a circular mirror housed in a bone-yellow melamine frame.
“This should do,” she said, handing it to me. “There’s a little stand attached to the back, if you prefer to keep your hands free.”
“Thank you, Tía.”
“Beryl, are you set?”
My sister affirmed her readiness as she walked the outer circumference of the salt circle one more time. “No breaks in the line, and I have set the containment thread as you asked.”
“Good. Your task is to wait and watch and notice. Oh—” Maritza tapped at her chin with her fingernail. “I’m debating whether the door and windows should be open or closed.” She tapped again, then lifted her gaze to the broken window in the corner, the same window I had seen my mother disappear out of. “Let’s leave everything as it is. Beryl, you may have to act quickly if it turns out the door especially should be closed.” She waved in the direction of the stained wall and the broken pane. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do about that.”
“I shall call in the directions and invite Hecate to join us.” With that, my aunt stepped to the entrance of the salt circle, removed her bright yellow boots and black-and-white-striped socks, and stepped into the circle’s
