Tarnished and Torn: A Witchcraft Mystery Page 20

  “I need you. I need your help.”

  “Tell me why this piece is the key to your salvation, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

  “It’s a ring, an ancient ring imbued with power. It’s called Ojo del Fuego, and in the hand of a powerful witch it can be used to exorcise . . . a spirit. A powerful evil spirit.”

  “And why go up against this spirit?”

  A long pause. “I’m beholden to him. In fact, I’m here at his command.”

  “Along with Clem and Zeke?”

  “They’re working for Gene, and I’m . . . I guess I’m supposed to be working with them as well. But I intend to find it first and win my freedom. If Gene finds it, he might be strong enough to use it to control the spirit, and I’ll be in thrall to him. Don’t you see? Whosoever commands the demon, commands me. The only way I can break free is to find it before anyone else uses it to exorcise the demon, or before Clem or Zeke or Gene finds it and destroys it according to the demon’s bidding.”

  “Did you go after Carlotta?”

  He shook his head. “That was Gene’s doing, I’m sure. He’s been searching for the ring for years. When I heard Carlotta had been killed and then her sister took off to San Francisco, I figured she was bringing the ring back to Aidan. He’s strong enough to keep it, and he has . . . history with it.”

  “So you tortured Griselda to death, hoping she would tell you where it was?”

  “No. That wasn’t me, I swear, Lily.” He finally used my name. So glad he remembered what it was. “I don’t know anything about it. Ask the police—they let me go; they couldn’t place me at the scene.”

  “Why were you a suspect in the first place?”

  “Zeke was angry at me. He was suspicious about me—rightly so. Tell the truth, I think he had his own plans for breaking free, for him and his brother.”

  “This Gene character sure knows how to pick ’em. Does he realize you’re all working independently?”

  “Not exactly independently. Once you’re beholden . . . well, nothing’s that simple anymore.”

  “If this character is so powerful, how can you be talking to me about this?” I asked, thinking of what happened with Zeke. Angry as I was, I couldn’t bear a repeat performance with my father as star.

  He shook his head and one hand went up to his chest, where there was a slight bulge under his T-shirt. “It’s taking a great deal of power to cloak myself.”

  I noted the grayish white twine around his neck, a perfect match to his hair. I presumed he was wearing a protective talisman of some sort. Perhaps his own hair amulet?

  “Listen,” he continued. “I knew Carlotta in Germany and tried to strike a deal with her there, but she refused. In fact, I’m afraid I inadvertently led Gene to her. Then Zeke called in an anonymous phone tip telling the police that I had a connection with Griselda and had threatened her. So they brought me in for questioning. That’s all.”

  “You were in handcuffs.”

  “You saw me?” His eyes held mine for a long moment. “You were there?”

  “I was suspected of causing a ruckus to distract the security guards from her death.”

  “You were at the Gem Faire, too?” He sat up once more, eager. “Did you speak to Griselda? Did she give you anything—anything at all?”

  I shook my head. “But I found a gold cuff link at her stand. Your gold cuff link. Wonder what the police would make of that.”

  There was a long pause. He searched my face, assessing. After a moment he smiled. “It’s rather sweet, really, that they would think you’d do something like that for your dear old dad. And now you’ve withheld evidence just for me?”

  “I wasn’t completely sure it was yours until right this moment.”

  “Anyway, the only reason they cuffed me . . . I may have lost my temper when they came to talk to me. But I swear, I had nothing to do with her death.” He finished the candy bar and sat hunched over on the edge of the bed. When he looked back up at me, it surprised me to see he had tears in his eyes. How come he could cry, when I couldn’t?

  He spoke in a whisper. “Lily, I have to find it.”

  “I thought you just said Aidan Rhodes had it. You two know each other. Why don’t you go talk with him?”

  A flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. “I can’t go out in the light, and I’ve been weakened by having to keep my guard up around Gene. But Aidan’s the one responsible for all of this.” He passed a hand over his face. “He and I . . . we were supposed to go up against the spirit, the demon, together. We had a pact, but he betrayed me.”

  “He was burned, too. Yet he’s not beholden?”

  “He betrayed me to save himself.”

  I didn’t know what to think about that. I certainly took my father’s words with a grain of salt, but while Aidan had helped me on more than one occasion, there was something about him I still didn’t trust. And frankly . . . from what I’d seen of demons, I could imagine doing a lot of things—even, perhaps, betraying someone—in the panic of trying to escape their clutches.

  “You’re sure Aidan has this ring?”

  “Not entirely. I assumed he was the only local practitioner with sufficient power to hold the piece. There are only so many candidates with that kind of muscle. Unless . . .”

  He fixed me with an odd look, frightening in its intensity.

  “Unless what?”

  “Your powers have grown,” he said. “I can tell. You weren’t anywhere near this able when I saw you last.”

  “I was a teenager when you saw me last. I’ve grown up. I’ve worked at it, learned a lot.”

  “Without Graciela?”

  “I had to leave Jarod. I told you that when I came to Germany.”

  “But your grandmother . . .” He faded off, then gave me an odd look. Then nodded, as though he’d made a decision. “You’re positive no one’s given you anything? Griselda didn’t pass anything to you?”

  I shook my head, suddenly very sure I didn’t want my father to know I might well have possession of something I had yet to find among my new jewelry. I felt another wave of anger surge within me; after everything that had happened between us—or hadn’t happened between us—this is what my father concentrated on? All he wanted from me was information and help, no matter the risk to me?

  He stared at me, assessing.

  “No, you’re right. You aren’t strong enough. I need to find Aidan.”

  “Have you tried his office?”

  “He has an office?”

  “At the Wax Museum, down on Fisherman’s Wharf.” It wasn’t as though I was giving away a confidence; the man was listed online and in the yellow pages as the go-to guy for curses and spells.

  “The Wax Museum? Really? Doesn’t that seem a bit . . . macabre?”

  “That’s exactly what I said.” I felt absurdly pleased at his reaction as confirmation that there was, in fact, a link between us.

  “Do not trust him, Lily. He’s not to be trusted.”

  “Yeah, well . . . there’s a lot of that going around.”

  Another long pause as he studied me.

  “You know, before this all happened, before Aidan betrayed me . . . I was coming back for you. I had always planned to come back for you. I never stopped thinking about you, Lily, never stopped loving you. You’re my baby girl.”

  The tears I couldn’t shed stung the back of my eyes. Those were the words I had longed to hear for so long.

  “I need you to do this for me, Lily. Find the ring; help me break free. You have no idea what it’s like to be under a demon’s control. I’m your father, Lily. Help me, I’m begging you.”

  I was shaking my head, not refusing him so much as overcome by emotions too long suppressed.

  “Please, Lily. We can be a family again. “

  Chapter 17

  I left the Hyatt and walked down hectic Market Street feeling battered, as though all those sore spots that had long since scarred over had been scraped raw again.

 
There was a tiny sneaking hope, a slight whisper, that perhaps my father was telling the truth, that if I found the fire opal ring and helped him escape from the demon, we could be a family again.

  I’m not naive; I knew that it wouldn’t be all sweetness and light. But still . . . for the first time in so long there was the slightest hope. Just to have communication with my father, an attachment to a blood relative that went beyond the unanswered phone calls and letters and checks I sent to my mother, beyond the awkward annual Mother’s Day phone call, during which she mostly wept on the other end of the line while I told her I loved her. Graciela still cared for me, and I treasured our connection. But what if I could have more?

  Probably he would ride right off into the sunset if I managed to free him, but it was still worth a try. I couldn’t stand to think of anyone under a demon’s thumb, much less blood kin.

  So I was back where I started: How did I get my hands on the elusive Ojo del Fuego, presuming Griselda really had brought it with her to San Francisco? My father said it could only be held by a very powerful person, which in his mind meant Aidan.

  Could that be why he was nowhere to be found? Might he have the ring, and if so . . . could I talk him into helping me free my father? After what had happened between them . . . maybe if Aidan had, indeed, betrayed my father, he would help him out of guilt.

  Aidan had never shown a whole lot of guilt about anything, but it was possible. If not, perhaps I could promise him something in exchange for it. Which would mean that I would be beholden to Aidan, which seemed only slightly less awkward than being held in thrall to a demon.

  These thoughts filled my mind as I drove back to Aunt Cora’s Closet, where I went straight into one of Bronwyn’s famous hugs. She was a little taken aback—usually I wasn’t much of a hugger. But then she slowly stroked my hair.

  “Lily, what’s wrong?”

  I gave her a brief rundown about encountering my father—leaving out all the demon stuff and the witch stuff and the manipulation stuff. I offered only the broadest outlines of his abandonment and the fact that he was now in San Francisco, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing him, much less whether I should try to work on any sort of relationship between us.

  “I myself am always an advocate of doing whatever you can for peace and reconciliation. Look how it worked for me and Rebecca!”

  Bronwyn had been rather estranged from her very respectable daughter, who didn’t care for her mother’s involvement in Wiccan activities, among other things. But after Rebecca’s husband was caught up in a nasty murder investigation, the two had become much closer. Now Rebecca’s daughter, Imogen, was allowed to come hang out with us at Aunt Cora’s Closet, which she did with frequency.

  “I know,” I said, and tried to think whether I could put into words why my relationship with my father was, perhaps, more convoluted than most. Why our estrangement might have to do with issues of demons and loyalty and fate. “It’s just . . . I guess I’m afraid, when it comes right down to it.”

  “We’re all afraid of being hurt,” said Bronwyn, her voice as gentle as a dove’s coo. “But as you know, there’s no way to embrace change without allowing oneself to be vulnerable. That’s why you have good friends at your back, so even if things go terribly wrong, you can rely on them for strength.”

  And then, as was her wont, she enveloped me in yet another long, vanilla-scented bear hug.

  “Were you baking today, by any chance?” I asked as I finally pulled away.

  “How did you know? Imogen and I had a kitchen project this morning.”

  Bronwyn brought out a plate of fresh-baked snickerdoodles from behind her herbal stand. That would explain the crumbs I had noticed on Oscar’s snout—he had no doubt begged a few from her.

  I smiled and bit into one. “Mmm . . . scrumptious.”

  “Homemade cookies make everything better, I always say.”

  My mouth full of cookie, I turned as the bell over the front door failed to tinkle when someone walked in. I didn’t have to rely on any extrasensory perception to know who it was.

  As my own abuelita Graciela used to say: Cuando aparezca el diablo, estará vestido de caballero. When the devil shows up, he’ll be dressed as a gentleman.

  “Lily,” said the hard-to-find Aidan Rhodes in a silky voice. “How wonderful to see you. It’s been so long. Too long.”

  Oscar, in his piggy form, did his obsequious bit, running circles around Aidan’s legs, begging for attention. Aidan gave him a twitch of the head, and Oscar scooted back over to the purple silk pillow Bronwyn had bought him. Recently she’d had it monogrammed, with OSCAR IVORY embroidered in giant florid letters, the “O” and “I” prominent. Maya called it his OI pillow and suggested we come up with two more names starting with “N” and “K,” so it would spell “oink.”

  “Aidan, we haven’t seen you in ages!” gushed Bronwyn as she ran across the shop to give him a big hug. I imagined not many people dared to hug Aidan, but he smiled and returned the embrace.

  “I swear you are looking more gorgeous with every birthday, Bronwyn. That shade of lilac is exquisite with your coloring.” Bronwyn had just turned fifty-three and celebrated with a party that would make any coven proud.

  How Aidan knew this was anyone’s guess . . . but Aidan always knew things. It was the way of it, just as natural as the sun rising in the east.

  The handful of women in the aisles of Aunt Cora’s Closet glanced over at Aidan and sighed. It was a typical response of women, and most men.

  Not long ago Bronwyn had referred to Aidan as a golden-haired god, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. Not that the man was a god—far from it. But there was no denying that his sparkling aura cast a magical, demigodlike spell over just about anyone he walked by. His eyes were a deep, captivating shade of periwinkle blue and seemed to hold secrets you were just dying to know. Tall and broad shouldered, he cut a fine figure and was always impeccably dressed.

  His beauty seemed unreal, and part of it was. But love him or hate him, Aidan was a force to be reckoned with.

  Lately my own feelings for him had been closer to hate than to love. Though he wouldn’t admit it, I was pretty sure Aidan had run Sailor out of town. In fact, there was part of me that was hoping this was so, because if it was true, I didn’t have to consider the painful possibilities that Sailor had fled because he was either afraid of me or didn’t want to be with me. It was one thing to be a disaster in the romance department, and quite another to make men flee.

  “Where’s Sailor?” I demanded of him, as I had every time we had met since Sailor’s disappearance.

  Aidan cocked his head and gave a tiny frown as he looked at me quizzically. “How would I know?”

  “Because you ran him out of town once you learned we were dating.”

  “Personally,” he said as his long, graceful fingers played with a strand of Venetian glass beads, “I’d ask his relations. Perhaps he left a forwarding address.”

  I pursed my lips to avoid saying anything more damaging. Besides, we had more immediate concerns at the moment than my love life, such as demons and magic amulets.

  Witchy politics, and witchy feuds, made strange bedfellows.

  “It looks like somebody had fun at the Gem Faire,” he said as he admired a long string of dark purple-gray misshapen pearls that adorned a nearby mannequin. He smiled. “Either that or a magpie’s been busily decorating.”

  “If you’re not going to tell me about Sailor, what are you doing here?” I asked. I had no desire to swap small talk with this powerful mage, but I wanted him to bring up the business with Gene and the ring and my father. Even though I’d been trying to get in touch with him, I was certain he had shown up here for his own reasons. That was how it was with Aidan.

  “Seriously?” Aidan said, his eyebrows raised, a half smile on his lips. He glanced over at Bronwyn, who was now showing an elderly woman her new salve to fade age spots. They seemed engrossed in the discussion, and within moments
all the other women in the store joined them, crowding Bronwyn’s herbal stand. They were mesmerized suddenly with whatever concoction Bronwyn was mixing up.

  It took me a moment to realize Aidan must have cast a cocooning spell so they wouldn’t overhear our conversation.

  “Perhaps we could go upstairs and speak in private?” he suggested.

  Aidan had never been to my apartment. I planned to keep it that way. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, except that my place was my inner sanctum.

  “Let’s go for a walk instead. It’s so sunny out.”

  “Hot, even,” Aidan said with a smile, fixing me with an intense look from those sparkly blue eyes. I wasn’t fooling him. “Of course, whatever you’d like.”

  Aidan released Bronwyn from the spell, and I left the store in her more than capable hands. As Aidan opened the door for me, the bell again failed to make any noise. I lifted an eyebrow.

  Aidan paused and glanced overhead. The bell rang obligingly.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked as he closed the door behind us.

  “You don’t find that incessant ringing a bit annoying? Reminds me of the faerie court—those little guys do adore their chimes. Anyway, I don’t like to give you any warning of my arrival.” He grinned. “You might escape.”

  “This is all a joke to you, isn’t it?” I demanded. I was on edge, not feeling like myself. I had no idea how Aidan was involved with any of this, or even whether he was actually involved, although when something magical was going haywire, it seemed he was always involved.

  He laughed outright. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. ’Mares bothering you again?”

  I just shook my head as we walked past a street vendor selling earrings, and another with a display of tiny handmade clay flutes.

  “I told you,” he said in a quiet, seductive voice, “it’s not natural for a witch to sleep alone. You’re inviting all sorts of nocturnal trouble. There’s no reason to be by yourself; you could enamor any man you like.”