She started cleaning me up, wiping off the soot and blood, then applying antibiotic cream and wrapping my wounds in gauze. Vaguely I thought it was a shame I didn’t have any mugwort salve handy, as it was good for burns. But then I saw the stretcher coming. They had hooked Renna up to an IV and oxygen and were rushing her into the back of an ambulance. The doors were slammed shut behind her, and it sped down the street. As I watched its flashing lights grow smaller in the distance and the siren came on when they neared the intersection, I thought to myself, Someone has to tell Sailor. He wasn’t close to his aunt and butted heads with her. But it was a family tragedy. Surely it would draw him home?
I felt a surge of sick pain in my gut. Nausea swept over me as I thought of Eric lying there on the floor, and Renna hanging from her arms in strapatto.
I lost my lunch, right there on the neighbor’s nicely trimmed hedge.
• • •
The acrid scent of smoke does not wash out of hair easily. This I know from experience, unfortunately. I soaped myself up twice with lemon verbena soap and washed my hair three times, but it still lingered.
Despite my own sooty stench I had fallen into a fitful sleep just after one in the morning, but awoke, groggily, a while later. Visions of fire and smoke, Eric lying prone; Renna hanging . . . They attacked my senses so I felt like a castle under siege.
I heard the cuckoo clock in the hall sound: cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. Three in the morning. Renna had been taken to Summit Medical Center and, when I had called last night, was said to be in serious but stable condition. They wouldn’t give me more details over the phone, even though I immediately lied and said I was her sister.
In a way it was true. All of us witches are sisters under the skin.
Now I struggled with what to do next. Should I call the hospital and try for an update? Would they talk to me at three in the morning? I let out a little sigh upon the realization that I spent way too much of my time and energy trying to get hospital personnel to share private medical information with me. How was it that I knew so many people who ended up hurt and hospitalized? Was it me?
But finally I realized something else had awakened me. Not my cuckoo clock—I was used to its chiming and found it comforting. No, there was something more. . . .
Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around.
Sailor.
I smiled, reveling in the dream. I had had similar ones before. Repeatedly since Sailor had left town. Dreams in which Sailor came back to me.
He was sitting in the armchair by my bed. Strong arms crossed over his broad chest. Unshaven, unkempt; eyes as dark and intense as always. Brooding. Sexy. Delicious.
“What the hell happened?” he growled.
Well, that was new.
“Lily?”
And just that fast, the scene went from dreamy fantasy to cold reality.
“Sailor?”
“I haven’t been gone that long. You don’t recognize me?”
Chapter 19
He was here. He was real.
I let out a ridiculous squeak as I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
But rather than returning my embrace, Sailor remained rigid. I pulled back and tried to study his face in the dark. I have excellent night vision, but all I read in his countenance was barely repressed fury.
“I said, what the hell happened to Renna and Eric?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there; I could feel it.”
I let my arms drop, sitting back on the bed and pulling the old hand-sewn quilt over me. My snowy white Victorian nightgown covered me from neck to ankle, but somehow I still felt exposed.
“How are they?” I asked.
“They’ll both survive. It’ll be a long recovery, the psychic scars worse than the physical ones.”
“Sailor, I am so very sorry. I—”
“Just tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know much,” I said, swallowing hard. His chilly disposition was difficult to reconcile with the moments of closeness we had shared not so very long ago. “I really don’t know anything about what happened with Renna and Eric, but strange things have been occurring since a few days ago, at a big jewelry expo at the Cow Palace. I bought some jewelry from a woman named Griselda, who was later killed there. She was pressed. And I think someone’s been after me ever since.”
“Pressed? As in pressing a witch?”
I nodded. “And my father’s back in town, and was briefly held on suspicion of her murder. And a couple of thugs have been trailing me, but I obviously got off a lot easier than Griselda or your aunt and uncle.”
He went still. “You’re saying your father’s involved?”
“No. I mean . . . I guess I don’t really know.” Could he have done such a thing? He seemed so old when I saw him, somehow, though he’d always been strong. And accompanied by Clem and Gene, who knows what they might have done in their quest for the ring? Now the question was, How much should I share with Sailor? He was known to fly off the handle with the proper motivation.
“Here’s the thing: I think Griselda had in her possession a ring that could be used by a strong practitioner to exorcise an elemental demon. The ring has a fire opal in it and I think it’s connected to a Mexican fire demon. I think my father and others are in town looking for it. We’re having an unusual heat wave, and I think it’s connected to the fire demon coming to town.”
He swore under his breath. “Okay. What’s the connection to Renna and Eric?”
“It might just be that Renna is known to be powerful. She was on a list, as was I. One of the screwups who was following me is in the hospital”—If he survives, I thought to myself—“but the other one could have gotten to Renna.” Or Gene—he seemed more likely to be that vicious.
“You put one of them in the hospital? Good for you.”
“No, it wasn’t me. I think someone was trying to keep him quiet, maybe. I don’t know, actually.” Now that I thought about it, it wasn’t as though he was about to tell me anything. Why would anyone want to keep him from running away with my medicine bag . . . ? Or was it simply about the ring?
“You think someone followed you to Renna’s and thought you gave her something or told her something?”
“I wasn’t followed—I arrived on the scene after they’d been there. But it’s possible Griselda sent the opal ring to Renna, or they thought she did.”
“So whoever killed Griselda went after Renna and Eric. It would make sense.”
He fell silent for a moment. Silvery moonlight slid in through the sash, highlighting the strong planes of his face. I could see his jaw clenching.
Finally he blew out a loud breath, sat back in the chair, and ran his hands through his hair.
“What are we going to do about it?” I asked.
“We?” he said with the sardonic tone I knew so well. “There is no ‘we.’ I will track these folks down and make them tell me what’s going on. How can I find your father?”
“Last time I saw him was at the police station,” I lied. If Sailor went to the Hyatt and confronted him, I was afraid he would run into Gene. He wouldn’t be able to handle the situation without me. Heck, he might not be able to handle it with me.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
I felt it then, the fingers of Sailor’s psychic ability reaching out to me, trying to read my aura, my thoughts. Sailor had never been able to read my mind, for which I remained profoundly grateful. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Still, I had never felt him try so hard, trying to force me. It ticked me off.
“Enough,” I said. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Worth a shot,” he said with a casual shrug. “You said you bought some jewelry from Griselda at the Gem Faire. Let me see it.”
We spent most of the rest of the night with him feeling the jewelry. Unlike me, Sailor had a gift for psychometry. He bent his head low over the jewelr
y as he inspected the pile, piece by piece. It took a long time, with me simply watching as he methodically eliminated one item after another.
There was no small talk, no discussion of where he had gone and why. I supposed now was not the time. Still, it was hard to act as though we were strangers. I found myself wondering how close to stand to him, not sure where to put my hands. Accustomed as I am to feeling awkward, this really took the cake.
Finally he reared back and blew out a loud, frustrated breath.
“Not a damned thing. It’s a bunch of junk.”
“Aidan mentioned the ring would be good at hiding its powers.”
“Aidan,” he sneered. “Where does he fit into all this?”
“He possessed the ring once, years ago, in Germany. He passed it off to a witch for safekeeping, but he thinks she might have been sending it back to him. I guess the demon’s henchmen tracked her down. She was killed, as was her sister who came to San Francisco, possibly to bring the ring back to him.”
“What’s he done to find the ring, and the killers?”
“He’s been keeping a low profile.”
“He’s hiding out while witches are being maimed and killed?” Outrage sparked in his eyes.
“I’m sure he’s doing what he can. You know how he is: He must have dozens of people working for him, trying to figure this all out. It wouldn’t do any good if he put himself in danger, much less let himself be killed.”
He stuck out his chin and gave a little shrug. “It might do some good.”
I wasn’t sure whether to smile in response. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, about us. To talk about what had happened, ask him where he had gone. But I couldn’t find the words.
Suddenly Sailor stood and reached out for me. I remained stock-still, not knowing what to do, but knowing I wanted him to touch me.
He laid his large, warm hand over the medallion on my chest.
“What about this? Aren’t these opals?”
“I wondered about it, too,” I said, shaking my head. “But I’m looking for some kind of ring. And when I offered this to Clem and Zeke, they weren’t interested.”
I looked down at it. His hand still lay on it, and I was hyperaware of his fingers touching my chest.
“D-do you, uh, feel anything from it?”
At first I thought the medallion had started madly humming with vibrations, but then I realized it was the energy transferring from Sailor’s hand to my bare skin.
I looked up into his dark eyes.
A long moment of silence passed. My breathing came faster. He leaned toward me, just a tad, and I did the same . . . and then, as though in unspoken agreement, we both pulled back.
Sailor turned to look out the window, his hands riding low on his narrow hips.
He cleared his throat. “So, where do we go from here?”
“Carlos Romero was going to arrange for me to examine the jewelry from Griselda’s stand. It’s a long shot to think the item’s still there, since everything’s been gone through already, but it might be worth a look, just in case it’s managed to go undetected. The thing is . . .”
“I’m afraid to ask, but what?”
“As you just witnessed, I really suck at psychometrics.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so good at reading textiles.”
I just shrugged and shook my head.
“I’ll go with you, then.”
“Yeah. That might be a problem. I’m not sure Carlos is all that fond of you.”
“You mean he hates me.”
“That’s a little strong. I’d say he doesn’t trust you.”
“He’ll have to get in line.”
“My point is that it might be difficult to convince him to let you study the evidence with me. I’ll call and see. Are you . . . are you free today? Any plans?”
“Well I was planning on having my nails done, but I’ll put that on hold if you get us into the evidence locker.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm. I’m really. . . . so sorry about Renna and Eric, Sailor.”
“I want to look at Griselda’s things, but you know as well as I do we won’t find the ring there. She must have gotten it to safety somehow. So, you were saying there were two guys following you, and your father’s in town. Anyone else involved?”
I nodded. “There’s a man named Gene. He’s organizing fire dances in the park, and I think he’s after the ring as well.”
“Is he working with your father?”
“It’s a little hard to say. I think all of them—Zeke and Clem and my father and Gene—are beholden to the demon. Whether they’re looking for the amulet to do the demon’s bidding and destroy it or to try to use it to free themselves . . . that’s another question.”
“How can I get in touch with your father?”
I nodded and chose my words carefully. “I’m not so sure it’s a great idea to go up against these guys alone. I think we need Aidan.”
“I know we need Aidan, but there’s no way in hell he’ll work with me on this. Don’t be naive.”
“Gene is frightening, Sailor. I don’t know exactly what his story is, but I think he’s able to channel the demon at times. During the fire dance, for example. He might be more than beholden; he might be a voluntary minion.”
“So when’s the next fire dance?”
“Listen to me a second. I’m not sure you’re strong enough.”
“Excuse me?”
How do you tell a man who prides himself on his self-sufficiency and independence that he’s not strong enough? This was not something Sailor wanted to hear.
“You tune into people’s vibrations, right? So if you connect with Gene’s mind at the time the demon’s channeling, what’s to keep you from being possessed by him as well?”
“I’ll keep my guard up.”
“That might not be enough. Before you talk with Gene—or my father, for that matter—I think the weak link here is Clem. If we can track him down, you might be able to get information from him.”
“You didn’t get much from him, and it sounds like you’ve spent a fair amount of time together.”
“I’m not psychic,” I said, feeling vaguely insulted. “And despite what you think, I’ve only been dealing with this whole thing for a few days, and I think I’ve done a pretty good job figuring things out so far.”
He inclined his head slightly. I supposed that was as close as I was going to get to an apology.
I couldn’t tell if he was just enraged by the attack on his aunt and uncle and was taking it out on me, or whether he thought I hadn’t done enough for him when he was banished by Aidan, or whether he was angry at me for some other reason. I was mad, too, and couldn’t exactly say why. Obviously we needed to talk about our relationship. But this wasn’t the best time.
My cuckoo clock tweeted five times. We had been up all night. I didn’t need much sleep to function . . . but neither was I superhuman.
“I have to get some rest, Sailor. Why don’t we . . . I mean, if you want you could . . .”
“I’m going to go check a few things out. I’ll check back in later today. Arrange that thing with your cop friend, will you?”
“How can I get in touch?”
With a funny twist of his mouth, he wrote down a number on a scrap of paper. “My cell phone.”
Sailor didn’t give his cell phone number to anyone.
And without so much as a peck on the cheek or a lingering look, he was gone.
• • •
The next day I was matching gloves from a great trove Maya had acquired from an elderly woman, when the phone rang. The man on the other end introduced himself as SFPD Inspector Carlos Romero.
“We’re being very formal today, Inspector Romero.”
“Calling from the office,” he said, still in his official cop voice. “I’ve arranged for the visit we spoke about. Tonight, six p.m.”
“About that . . .” I began. “I really want to look through the things,
just in case. But the truth is I’m not all that great divining things from jewelry. In fact, I sort of suck at it.”
Silence on the other end of the line. I could just see Carlos pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, stifling whatever invectives were springing to mind.
“So what I’d like to do is bring a friend along, someone much better at it than I. You would be there with us the whole time, and we’ll share any information we can glean from the stuff.”
“Who is this friend?”
“Sailor.”
Again he failed to respond. I could hear voices in the background, the ringing of phones, some radio chatter. It reminded me of sitting with Carlos at the police station and looking up to see my father.
My stomach clenched at the thought.
“Maybe Neil could take us?” I suggested. Neil was Carlos’s partner. He liked me better than Carlos did, much of the time.
“No, Neil cannot take you.” I heard some shuffling on the line and his voice dropped. “I refuse to be laughed out of the department if it gets out that I’m letting the local witch battalion march through the evidence room.”
“I’m hardly a battalion. And, anyway, a group of witches is typically known as a coven.”
“I know what it’s known as. I’m already suspect around here because I recognized the manner of death as a witch thing.”
“Have they made any progress on the investigation?”
“Nothing. Total dead end. Sounds like it was pandemonium, no one saw a thing.”
“So, it sounds like you might need me and Sailor to come in and take a look at the evidence, just in case.”
“Tonight. Meet me at the Heart and Dagger at the corner of Harrison and Ninth. I’ll lead you over from there.”
“Okay.”
“And, Lily? Try to be discreet, if you possibly can.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“In other words, leave your pig at home.”
I agreed and hung up. What now? I hate the phone. But while I was at it, I placed a call to Germany. Hans answered, his voice sounding as formal as Carlos’s had a moment before.
“I’m about to meet with a client, so I have to make this brief. The young man you asked about was a neighbor who was orphaned in a house fire some years ago. Griselda took him in, raised him as her own. That’s all I’ve got.”
Tarnished and Torn: A Witchcraft Mystery Page 22
