In A Witch's Wardrobe

by Juliet Blackwell

  “Lily!” Jonquil called as she spotted me. “This is incredible! You said you owned a clothing store, but I never dreamed it would be this great. Check this out!”

  “Hi,” I said. I didn’t know what to say… . Should I apologize for my actions the other night? But Jonquil didn’t seem to sense any awkwardness. She gave me a warm smile and held out the package.

  “You left so suddenly the other evening, you forgot your beautiful platter. I’m afraid the lemon bars went rather quickly. I didn’t have a chance to make anything, so I’m bringing it back empty. I know it’s crass—my foster mother used to tell me: Never bring back an empty dish. But here I am.”

  “Oh no, please don’t worry about that. It was kind of you to bring it back. I… With regards to the other night, I—”

  Jonquil waved away my concern. “Please don’t worry about it. It was kind of a strange night, all the way around. I think we’re all, well, grieving for Tarra. And sensitive about our privacy, of course.”

  “Of course,” I replied. “Come in, please. I’d like you and Anise to meet my friends and colleagues: Lucille Jackson, her daughter, Maya, and you may remember Bronwyn?”

  As they said their hellos, I studied Anise. Carlos hadn’t found anything consistent with poisoning in the air at the Design Center, nothing that could explain her flat affect, and the other coven sisters seemed fine. Jonquil certainly didn’t appear to be impaired.

  “Can we look around?” Jonquil asked. “This place is amazing.”

  “Please do. Make yourselves at home.”

  Luna started crying in the back room. Duke went to get her and brought her back into the front of the shop, but when Luna kept crying I offered to hold her again.

  Jonquil held an ecru lace slip up to her body, assessing herself in the three-way mirror. “Wow, I bet you love getting dressed every day.”

  “I do. I have my own personal closet here… everything that fits, that is.”

  Luna kicked her legs and frowned.

  Anise frowned back. “Why’s she so grumpy?”

  “She’s been a little out of sorts,” I said. If the baby did, indeed, have mal ojo she would need another sweep with the egg, called a limpieza. Clearly, she was still unhappy.

  “Is that… Miriam’s baby?” Jonquil asked.

  “Yes, it’s Luna.” The baby turned her face into my chest.

  “She’s sick?” Jonquil’s eyes widened with concern.

  “I think so.” Anise took a step back. “Nothing contagious, just a baby malady, probably. Or… it could be related to what’s ailing her mother.”

  “Really? You think it could be the same thing Miriam’s suffering from?” Jonquil asked, reaching out and smoothing Luna’s golden curls. “I might have some herbs that could help her—I could ask Calypso about it.”

  “I’d love to talk to the famous Calypso myself, ask her a few questions. Could I get her contact information from you?”

  “Oh, I don’t think…” Jonquil trailed off and glanced at Anise. “She’s pretty private.”

  “She’s awesome,” said Anise, not looking up from her phone. She had graduated from texting and was now placing a phone call.

  Moments later a beeping sound came from Jonquil’s bag. “Oh, sorry. That’s my cell phone. I hate that. Anise, you should step outside to make your call. It’s rude to use phones in a place of business. Remember what Calypso said?”

  “You’re one to talk. You’ve got, like, an iPhone plus a cell phone,” said Anise.

  “This isn’t a competition,” replied Jonquil in a patient voice. She rolled her eye slightly and smiled in my direction. “It’s a matter of basic politeness.”

  I wondered whether, even had I been a bit younger, I would ever have become so smitten with phones or other such devices. Their vibrations jangled my energy, and by and large they broke when I used them. I didn’t trust them.

  “He’s still not answering anyway,” said Anise.

  “Okay, I simply have to try this on,” said Jonquil suddenly, holding up a flouncy wedding dress.

  “Of course,” I said. I passed Luna off to her grandfather and gestured for Jonquil to follow me. “Right back here.”

  I led the way to the large communal dressing room and stayed with her to help button up the gown, which had a long row of cloth-covered buttons and a diamond-cut peekaboo panel cut out in back. Her auburn hair fell down in long strands that contrasted with the soft ivory of the gown, managing to look fetching rather than messy.

  “Jonquil, do you know Tarra’s boyfriend, Rex, very well?”

  “Sure.”

  “Does he have a temper?”

  “A temper?” She craned her neck to look at me. Her eyes widened. “What are you thinking, that he had something to do with Tarra passing to the next dimension?”

  I hesitated, but then confessed: “I just wondered. A lot of times, these situations are domestic in nature. Rex and Tarra were together, but… you talking about cell phones reminded me… . I found something that seems to indicate maybe Tarra was having an affair.”

  “An affair?”

  I nodded.

  “With who?”

  “That fellow in the drumming group, Wolfgang?”

  “No way.” She shook her head and looked back in the mirror, swaying this way and that to see the skirt swish.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s not his type.”

  “Oh. Do you know him well?”

  “We’re good friends.”

  “More than friends, maybe?”

  “Once. But we had an amicable parting of the ways… . He’s really a good guy. A little obsessed with himself and his own development, though. I needed someone who could be there for me more, you know? That’s why I say he and Tarra wouldn’t have worked out. You didn’t know her, but she was… needy. I mean, she was great, but I think that’s why she was good with Rex. He coddled her, treated her like a princess.”

  “So she and Rex got along well? You wouldn’t suspect him?”

  “No, he worshipped her.”

  “Could she have been seeing someone else besides Wolfgang? Is Rex the jealous type?”

  “We don’t really do that.” Our eyes met in the mirror. “Our coven doesn’t believe in jealousy and possessiveness, everything that implies.”

  “Ah.” That seemed laudable on many levels. Still, I wondered how realistic it was. Unless you were raised with the concept from childhood, it seemed a tough sell. Besides that, what we want to believe doesn’t always translate directly to how we act; I was proof positive of that.

  “Anyway, you could always ask the guys about it directly,” Jonquil said. “They’ve got drumming circle tomorrow night, starting right at dusk. Up in Sibley Regional Park. Both of ’em’ll be there.”

  “Sibley’s in the East Bay?”

  She nodded. “It’s really beautiful up there, very spiritual. There are labyrinths.”

  Anise stuck her head into the dressing room, looking up from her cell phone but still punching buttons with her thumbs. “You look like a real bride. Awesome. You planning on getting married anytime soon?”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Jonquil with a smile, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “You’ll probably get married before I do. Hey, let’s try it on you!”

  Anise backed away, shaking her head. “I’m more the jeans type.”

  “You never know until you try,” I said, then left the laughing young women to play dress up while I checked in on the patternmakers, and the results of little Luna’s test for mal ojo

  Chapter 15

  I went into the back room, crouched down, and felt under the crib for the jar.

  Finally I got down on all fours and looked. It was gone.

  Then I noticed that a bunch of newly laundered and ironed dresses had been pulled off their hangers and left in a heap on the floor.

  “Oscar!” I yelled. I had never seen a pig walk on tiptoe, but Oscar did so as he came in response to my c
all, remaining near the velvet curtain.

  “What did you do with the jar under the bed?”

  He snorted.

  “Upstairs, now.”

  I followed him up. Once at the landing outside my apartment, he transformed.

  “What did you do with the jar, Oscar?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you suggesting it moved itself?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then what happened to it?”

  “Baby took it.”

  “Baby Luna took the jar.”

  He nodded. “While you were talking.”

  “An eleven-month-old who can’t even walk could not have taken the jar, Oscar.”

  He just gazed at me, bottle glass green eyes shiny and huge.

  “Okay. Why would the baby have taken the jar?”

  “To eat the egg.”

  “And what happened to the jar? Did she eat that too? And then she made a mess?”

  He shrugged.

  I blew out an exasperated breath, then sat on the top step. “Listen to me, Oscar. I know you don’t like the baby. But we went through this not long ago with Beowulf, the black cat, remember? And then she ended up being one of your best friends.”

  “This isn’t the same.”

  “I know it’s not. This is a human baby. Human babies aren’t able to get out of cribs and pull things off the rack.”

  Oscar picked at his talons.

  “You made the mess yourself, didn’t you, and now you’re trying to blame the baby?”

  “I told you! She did it when you were in the shop, distracted! And I couldn’t tell you because she was here. She said if I told she would get me.”

  “You are treading on my last nerve, here, Oscar. Luna is too young to speak.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Aidan says he’ll see you now.”

  “Now?”

  “He says you should go over to his office.”

  I blew out a breath in frustration. I wasn’t going to get any further with Oscar. “All right, fine. You stay away from the baby. You understand me?”

  I cleaned up the clothes in the back room, fuming. Why would Oscar make up such a tale? But then I thought of him with Beowulf, an abandoned cat we had fostered for a few days. Oscar’s behavior had been deplorable at first, his goblin nature coming out in nasty ways, wanting to deny the feline food and comfort.

  I could only guess that Oscar came from a goblin-eat-goblin world.

  * * *

  The patternmaking class finally came to an end. We cleaned up the food—Oscar took care of the crumbs on the ground—pushed the racks back where they belonged, and dismantled the temporary plywood worktable.

  Duke started packing up Luna’s things, saying he had to get over to his boat and take care of a few issues, including filing new paperwork for the city. It sounded like a lot of running around, plus time on the boat… maybe not the best activities to attempt with a baby on your hip.

  “Why don’t you let me keep Luna with me for the afternoon?” I offered, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I know we’ve only just met, but she seems to like me, oddly enough. I have to run some errands, as well, but nowhere she wouldn’t be welcome. I could drop her off later.”

  He held my gaze. He was still wide open, no guard up. I couldn’t force people to do what I wanted, but I could influence them to trust me.

  “If you really don’t mind,” he said.

  “It will be my pleasure.”

  * * *

  I swept Luna with another egg, just in case, then wrapped up the mandragora, strapped the baby seat into the back of the car, and finally conceded to Oscar’s whining and let him come along. I was halfway across town when I realized I was heading toward a Wax Museum in a vintage Mustang convertible with a baby, a pig, and a mandragora in tow.

  Land sakes. Was it me, or was I getting weirder all the time?

  Luna shrieked.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Oscar casting a menacing snarl at the baby. “Oscar! Leave the baby alone.”

  “There’s something wrong with it,” he said.

  “I know that. Poor child’s ill. Anyway, you’re just jealous.”

  “What would I be jealous of? It’s ugly.”

  So says the creature covered in scales.

  “She’s beautiful. And even if she weren’t, there’s no such thing as an ugly baby. They’re all little miracles.”

  “I don’t think it’s normal. Maybe it’s a”—his voice dropped—“demon.”

  “Oscar. Do not intone that word around me, young man. She’s a baby, not an evil creature. And anyway, demons don’t inhabit babies. They’re all about getting things done, and an infant is helpless.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror to see a scowling Luna reach out and yank, hard, on Oscar’s big ear.

  “Ow!” Oscar gaped at me, his face a mask of outraged innocence.

  Luna laughed, a loud, gleeful cackle that was, I had to admit, a fair imitation of a little demon.

  Within moments Luna’s laughter ceded, once again, to shrieking. I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. I hadn’t been caring for her very long, but I felt as weary as if I’d run a marathon, as jittery as if I’d drunk ten cups of coffee, my arms shaky as though I’d completed fifty push-ups. I was tired of the incessant whining and crying. Even Bronwyn had finally begged off when it became apparent I was the only one the child wanted, and even with me she squirmed and fretted. Luna had given me the kind of headache that willow’s bark tea couldn’t cure.

  I felt a new appreciation for parents, teachers, and child care workers. Kids are a tough gig.

  The streets of Fisherman’s Wharf were full of dazed, jaywalking tourists, as usual. I drove around the block several times looking for a parking spot before breaking down and pulling a charm out of my glove box and concentrating on a huge SUV that took up more than its fair share of the street. After a minute, a confused-looking man came out of a nearby seafood restaurant and clicked the button on his key ring, causing the car to chirp and light up. He climbed in and left the spot, and I pulled in.

  I tried not to use my magic for capricious ends, but on days like today I felt justified.

  I got out, opened the back door, and unbuckled the baby seat.

  Oscar shifted into his piggy guise.

  “You’re not coming, Oscar. I can only deal with one of you at the moment.”

  He shifted back, looking appalled. “You’re taking it but not me?”

  Automatically, I looked around to see if any passersby were witnessing my talking gobgoyle, but as usual he had made sure it was safe before shifting. Not once had I caught him not taking care to hide his real colors around nonmagical folks… unless he was saving my life.

  “I’m sorry, Oscar. I won’t be long. But I can’t manage both of you.”

  “Then leave it here.”

  “I can’t leave a baby alone, Oscar. Human babies aren’t able to protect themselves.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How ’bout we leave it in the park? Kids like parks. Or let it go look around Pier 39. If it’s still alive when you get back, it’ll be, like, whaddayacallit? Natural selection. I read about it once.”

  “Oscar, listen to me: Luna’s not an ‘it.’ She’s a helpless baby, and we will all pitch in to take care of her, no matter what. You hear me? Besides, it’s only temporary. Now, hand me the mandragora.”

  “You won’t take me but you’re taking the mandragora?”

  “For crying out loud, Oscar, I will not have this conversation.” I slipped the mandragora into my satchel. “Now, stay here, and be good.”

  Oscar transformed into a pig, turned his butt to me, wiggled his corkscrew tail, and lay down in a huff.

  I slammed the door, rather huffy myself. I was about to cross the street toward the Wax Museum when I heard my name being called.

  “Lily!”

  I searched the crowds and finally saw a man leaning up against the wall of a souvenir shop, eating a
shrimp cocktail. He was tall with an athletic build, golden hair, and sparkling cornflower blue eyes. Aidan wasn’t one to fade into the crowd, and as people passed him they made a wide berth, women and men gazing at him with undisguised admiration and envy. It wasn’t just his looks. Aidan’s aural spectrum was so intense that even the least sensitive human responded to its brilliance.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a crooked smile as I approached. “Shrimp?”

  “No, thank you. What—”

  “They make a nice crab cocktail, if you prefer.”

  “Thank you, no. Why—”

  “You look good with a baby on your hip,” he said, an assessing gleam in his eye. “Is she yours?”

  “No, she’s not mine,” I said. “Where in tarnation would I get a baby?”

  “Wherever you felt like.” He smiled. “You’re more than capable.”

  “She’s Miriam’s child.” Baby Luna put a chubby hand on my cheek. I smiled down at her, but she scowled back. “She hasn’t been well.”

  Aidan reached out and cupped the child’s head in his large hand, stroking her hair and rubbing a few of the silky yellow strands between his fingers. “The faeries would love this golden hair. Perhaps she’s a changeling.”

  “She’s not a changeling,” I said. Though, for a moment there, with the mess in the back room that Oscar denied making, it had crossed my mind.

  “You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his lips. “Want me to hold her? I love babies.”

  “She doesn’t really like…” I trailed off as the little traitor reached her pudgy arms out to him. Aidan smiled, hoisted her against his chest, and murmured to her softly. And then, wonder of wonders, she returned his smile and patted his face. Apparently no one could resist this man when he turned on the charm. The two golden-haired beauties looked good together.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “I know. I promised I’d look into Miriam’s curse, and I did.”

  “Is that why you ditched me at the ball?”

  “I didn’t ditch you,” he said. But his eyes didn’t meet mine, and he seemed somewhat discomfited. Rare for him. I savored the moment.