A Cast-Off Coven Read online

  “As a matter of fact, she’s not.”

  “How about Marlene?”

  “Now’s probably not the best time—”

  “You told the police I had to close my school!” Marlene shouted as she came to the door. She was dressed in an old pair of blue jeans, her hair was loose and unkempt, and I caught a strong whiff of alcohol. “How dare you!”

  “It’s necessary, Marlene,” I said. “Just for a few days.”

  “You—”

  “Marley,” Todd said quietly. Marlene glared at me, spun on her heel in a huff, and retreated.

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  “She’ll be fine. Sorry about this, but Marley’s not quite herself at the moment.”

  “Do you know where Ginny is?”

  He shook his head.

  “I know this is going to sound weird, but could I take a quick look at her room?”

  “Her room? I don’t think—”

  “Todd, this is important.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know. But I need to see if there’s anything . . . unusual. It’s related to the haunting of the school.”

  “You think Ginny’s involved?”

  “Unwittingly involved, yes.”

  After another brief hesitation, and a glance behind him, Todd stepped back and let me in. “This way,” he said.

  About halfway down a short hallway, I noticed the unmistakable aroma of rotten eggs—sulfur.

  Todd opened a door and nodded. I noted a line of salt had been poured across the threshold as though to keep out evil spirits.

  On Ginny’s desk and tacked to the walls were dozens of pieces of paper with Sitri’s sigil sketched upon them. Some of the drawings were elaborate, in full color with curlicue embellishments; others were crude and child-like, as if drawn by another hand entirely.

  A black cloth was draped over what I guessed was a mirror atop a cherry dresser. Several books on witchcraft—all of which looked to be of the peace-loving Wiccan variety—were scattered near the bed. A Ouija board was set out on the floor, alongside a splayed tarot deck and a thick tome, How to Interpret the Magical Tarot. Protective sachets hung over the doors and window, and the room was filled with white candles—lots and lots of white candles.

  The sensations in the room were chaotic. Portals were half opened, spirits half formed. Someone here had been playing with magic, and she’d had enough power to get into trouble but nowhere near enough to get herself out.

  My concentration was broken by the sound of a tussle in another part of the house. Female voices—Marlene’s and Ginny’s—were raised in argument. The voices drew nearer.

  “Don’t go in there!” Marlene said. “Don’t—”

  “It was an accident,” Ginny cried. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. “I never meant to do anything, Lily!”

  Marlene started into the room, but Todd stopped her, his voice low and reassuring. “Let them talk, Marley. Maybe Lily can help.”

  “Ginny, this is important,” I said. “Tell me everything that’s been going on, how it all started.”

  “I can’t. You’ll think I’m crazy.” Ginny cried softly, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

  “I really won’t.”

  “It was the closet. On the third floor. Before we even opened it, there was something about it—it felt like it was calling to me. As though the door . . . as though something wanted me to open the door. I couldn’t stand it. I had to know what was in there.”

  I nodded. Ginny clearly had some psychic ability, however untrained. I wasn’t surprised she would have felt the energy emanating from such a place of bound power.

  “What happened when you opened the door?”

  “Nothing, at first. Mom had to break the handle to get it open, but then it was just a regular old closet, kind of. It was hard to see, and there was no light switch, so I lit the candelabra sitting on the dresser.”

  “Do you remember the order you lit the candles in? Think carefully.”

  “Order?” She had pushed up one sleeve and was picking at her forearm; I noticed a series of scratches, red and angry looking.

  “All in a row, one after the other, or randomly?”

  “Randomly, I think.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention. But after I lit them, I felt something. I’ve always been a little . . . you know—I could feel things, see things sometimes. And then I found this.”

  From under the drawings on her desk she extracted a piece of paper, crumbly and yellowed with age. On it was sketched Sitri’s sigil.

  “It was in the middle of the floor, with a knife stuck through it, pinned to the floorboards. Mom got weirded out and left. But I figured, if there really was some . . . thing in the closet, that was, like, his avatar.” She twined a finger in her hair, and I noticed several strands came loose. Ginny was falling apart.

  “Did you pull the knife out?”

  She nodded, then opened a desk drawer and handed me a beautiful, antique athame, a ceremonial knife used for spells.

  “And then I saw something in the mirror . . .” Ginny continued. “And I started thinking about that damned Andi, with her big art show, and I remember thinking that if I had a rich father like she did, I’d be famous, too . . . and it was almost like the face in the mirror wanted me to ask for help. I must have fallen asleep or something. I must have been dreaming. But I asked for help.”

  “You called on the demon?”

  “No. No way. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “What did you do?”

  “This sounds crazy, I know, but it was like the voices in the mirror were telling me to ask our lord for help. I didn’t know what they meant. It kind of scared the crap out of me, but they said it would grant my wish. Sort of like a genie.”

  Or a demon.

  “Was this when the sounds of the bell tower started getting louder?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know? I mean, a few of us had heard things for, like, years, but nothing like it’s been lately. But you’re right—it sorta started after we opened the closet. I tried to, like, sort of like stop it.”

  “Stop it, how? Did you do anything to bind him?”

  “Him who?”

  “The demon.”

  “The what?” Marlene hovered at the door, though Todd kept her from entering the room. I concentrated on Ginny.

  “It wasn’t a Genie?”

  “Not by a long shot, I’m afraid. Ginny, please. This is very important. The one the voices referred to as our lord. Did you try to bind him?”

  “What does that even mean?” Ginny coughed into her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel very good.”

  She looked awful, too, and no wonder. Ginny had compromised her soul, however unwittingly.

  “Tell me what you did to try to stop it. Did you perform an exorcism, cast a spell?”

  “An exorcism?” Ginny looked at me as if I were nuts. “Like in the movie? Are you crazy?”

  I reined in my impatience and fear. “Just tell me what you did.”

  “I was afraid to go back to the closet, so I tried to communicate through my old Ouija board. We used to do it at slumber parties when we were kids, and even though my friends thought it was just a game, I always felt like I actually heard something. And then I tried to read the tarot, but I don’t know that much about it and didn’t make it through the book. There’s more to that stuff than you’d think.”

  “Yes, there is,” I said.

  “Ginny had nothing to do with Jerry’s death!” Marlene interrupted from the doorway.

  “I know that, Marlene,” I said. “She was with me when it happened.”

  “He left her money for a scholarship in his will.” Marlene started to cry. “So the police are saying she had a motive.”

  “Not a very strong one,” I replied, my eyes still on Ginny, who was looking more and more distressed. “And it’s a moot point, anyway. Ginny didn’t hurt anyone.”


  “It was the ghost,” Ginny said with another cough and a sniff. “I don’t know why nobody believes it, what with everything that’s been going on. I mean, hello. Even Mom believes it.”

  I glanced at Todd, who was watching Ginny closely.

  “Lily, can you help me? Make this stop?” Ginny sank onto her bed. “I don’t know what’s going on. . . . I’m so confused. And I feel like crap. I think I’ve got the flu.”

  “I’ll help you, Ginny—of course I will. But you have to stay here tonight. Do not go near the school. Understood?” Ginny nodded, looking relieved. I turned to Todd and Marlene. “Whatever you may think of me, trust me on this: You must keep Ginny at home tonight. Tie her down and sit on her, if you have to. Under no circumstances allow her to leave the house. Clear on that?”

  Todd and Marlene nodded.

  “What else can we do?” Todd asked.

  “Fetch me a large garbage bag. Let’s get this Ouija board out of here. Grab all the sigils, too.”

  “The what?”

  “These drawings.”

  Marlene started collecting the sigils as Todd returned with the trash bag.

  “No! I need those for a project I’m working on!” Ginny gasped, a feverish glint in her eyes.

  “Trust me,” I said. “This is one project you do not want to finish.”

  Ginny was in bad shape, but modern medicine could do nothing for her, and neither could my botanicals and brews. The only thing that would help Ginny was for me to confront and disable Sitri. If only I knew exactly how.

  On my way back to Aunt Cora’s Closet, I decided it was worth one more stop by Aidan’s place, just to clarify a few issues, and to be sure I wasn’t still lacking anything obvious.

  After another brief verbal skirmish with the young woman in the booth, I made my way up the stairs and through the wax figures to Aidan’s office. This time, before I had even knocked, I heard a voice beckoning me to enter.

  “Lily! What a lovely surprise. Stop by for tea?”

  “Not exactly. I’m going up against the demon tonight, and I think I figured out why you can’t help me. You know him, don’t you?”

  Aidan looked at me so long, I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “I do. Many years ago, Jerry Becker came to me. He told me about releasing the demon and making a deal with him. But he wanted out of their agreement. He needed my help to exorcise the demon.”

  “I thought it wasn’t possible to renege on that kind of agreement.”

  “It’s not easy. The cost is prohibitive for most. Becker forfeited part of his soul. He was never a whole man afterward.”

  “When was this?”

  “Some time ago.”

  “When Jerry was a young man? But you couldn’t be more than, what, thirty-five or forty?” I may not know algebra, but I did know how to add and subtract.

  Aidan gave me a crooked grin, his blue eyes twinkling, and then he ignored my question.

  “Your father and I helped Becker come up with a plan of exorcism. Gave him the necessary tools, and the ritual. We hoped to stay out of the actual conjuration, but that connection was enough for the demon to know us.”

  “My father? He helped as well?”

  Aidan just nodded.

  “And you sent me in there alone, without my knowing?”

  “I couldn’t be sure what was going on. Jerry Becker came back recently, told me he thought the demon was loose again. But I didn’t know whether to believe him—he did have a dramatic streak. I didn’t want you to go in with ideas and accidentally conjure the nasty fellow. You know how these guys are. I can’t so much as say the name without summoning him. Anyway, I knew you were strong enough to deal with whatever you encountered.”

  I wished people wouldn’t assume I was so doggoned strong all the time.

  Besides . . . something else occurred to me.

  “It’s not that. You weren’t sure which side I’d go to,” I said.

  Aidan raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “What can I say? The seductiveness of the demon is strong indeed. And we both know about your father.”

  “Yes. We do.”

  “Those nuns, the ones who invoked him all those years ago, they died in that room. They sacrificed themselves for his benefit. That’s powerful stuff. Luckily, someone realized what was going on and trapped him.”

  “I think it was one of the other nuns, a sister one who escorted them back to the convent. She had been disciplined for ‘practicing pagan something or other’ at one point. But I think she was just trying to stop whatever was going on.”

  “Lucky for all of us.”

  I nodded. “So, how do I stop him this time?”

  “There’s no one way to do it. It’s like the rest of what we do, Lily. You do whatever it takes to channel more power than he can. It’s heart, not any particular dogma.”

  One last question occurred to me as I turned to leave.

  “Aidan, how did Sailor get his psychic abilities?”

  “We made a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I thought you understood I couldn’t discuss issues about my clients.”

  “He was a client?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Anyway, why are you so interested in Sailor?”

  I shrugged. “He’s . . . enigmatic.”

  “Aren’t we all, my dear Lily? Aren’t we all?”

  Tonight was the dark moon, which boded well for a demonic exorcism. Ginny’s deteriorating condition had given me a sense of urgency. I had taken Hervé’s words to heart, and now I added Aidan’s. I would memorize the recommended method for conjuring and binding the demon from the Lesser Key of Solomon, but most of all I would rely on my powers . . . bolstered by all the help I could muster.

  When I got back to Aunt Cora’s Closet, Bronwyn told me she had arranged a meeting with Wendy and another priestess, Starr, at a Haight Street café named Coco Luxe. We sat and talked over creamy mochas and homemade marshmallows.

  “Have a praline,” said Wendy, holding out a small plate of candies.

  “Mmm, thank you. But, just for the record, these aren’t pralines. They’re caramels with pecans,” I said.

  “But Coco-Luxe pralines are famous!” said Starr.

  “Real pralines aren’t caramels,” I said. “My mama used to make them.” I took another bite. “They’re incredible, all right. They just aren’t pralines.”

  “Told you,” said Bronwyn with a smile. “Our Lily’s a praline purist.”

  Starr turned to me, a serious look on her face. “Bronwyn tells us you need help with a demon. What does she mean?”

  “I always thought demons were invented by the church hierarchy,” said Wendy. “You know, to scare the crap out of people so they’d be good and go to church.”

  “That’s what I said,” said Bronwyn.

  “I’m afraid not. I mean, I have no idea where they come from, whether they’re connected to some entity called the devil, or any religious tradition. I just know they exist, and there were writings about them long before Christianity arose. They cross historical as well as religious traditions.”

  “What are the risks involved?” Wendy asked.

  “There’s always some risk, but in this case it should be minor. You won’t even enter the building. I just need the coven’s powers for the setup. I’ll be doing the actual exorcism. The demon won’t be able to touch you, but he might try to tempt you.”

  “What should we look for?” Bronwyn asked.

  “Usually some offer of power or wealth, youth or beauty. But he’ll probably realize that won’t work with the coven, so I’m guessing he’ll try something else. Beware of sensuous feelings; feelings of love, of being wanted, desired. It’s like being high on booze or drugs; the feeling is real, but it’s not based on anything tangible. Draw strength from one another, as you always do within the circle. I’ll be there, too, to battle with him if I need to. But unless I miss my guess, he’ll wait for me to come to him.”

&n
bsp; Starr looked at Wendy, and Wendy at Bronwyn. They nodded.

  “Okay,” declared Wendy, “but we’re gonna need some more marshmallows.”

  These were my kind of Wiccans.

  Chapter 22

  “I missed out on marshmallows?” Oscar whined when I returned to my apartment to brew. My mind was so focused that I had forgotten to bring him a piggy bag.

  “Sorry, Oscar,” I said. “I’m a little under the gun at the moment, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Just as soon as I have this demon under control.”

  Oscar shivered, and I did the same. Just the thought of that demon would scare any sane person or pig.

  I laid a clean white cloth on the counter, placing upon it my athame, a few sprigs of Sorcerer’s Violet, a segment of sacred rope, a selection of crystals, a handful of enchanter’s nightshade, and three apples sliced horizontally to display their secret pentacles, or stars. After opening my Book of Shadows to tonight’s spell, I filled my cauldron half with springwater and half with fresh goat’s milk, then set it on the stove to boil.

  I sliced another apple for Oscar, and while the pot came to a boil, I placed a call to my abuela, my adoptive grandmother, Graciela. A formidable woman of few words but great powers, she had taken me in during the dark, frightening days of my out-of-control youth, just as she had my father before me.

  Years ago she had lost my father to the wrong side of the power, and I knew she was angry with me still, as well. When circumstances conspired to make me leave my hometown of Jarod, Texas, Graciela had sent me to finish my training with a powerful friend of hers in Chiapas, but instead I had gone looking for my father. Big mistake.

  Graciela and I still hadn’t talked about our estrangement; in fact, I had spoken to her for the first time just a couple of weeks ago, when I needed her advice and help to go up against La Llorona. And here I was asking for help yet again. Graciela quickly outlined what she thought I would need to brew for optimal strength and focus during an exorcism.

  She also told me, in no uncertain terms, that if San Francisco was as rife with spirits as it appeared to be, I’d better finish my training in the craft, and soon.

  “I can’t come back home, though,” I said. “You know that.”