Secondhand Spirits (32 page)

“At least most folks along the Rio Grande know what they're up against. With San Franciscans . . . they're like lambs to the slaughter.”

“I suppose you're right about that.”

“And I need a couple of other things from you.”

He looked down at me, amusement clear in his bright blue eyes. “Oh, sure, why stop now?”

I handed him a scrap of paper with a name on it. “Would you be sure this person comes tonight? Just before three a.m., at India Basin park.”

He looked down at it, then back to me, and nodded.

“I'm not sure how things will play out tonight,” I continued. “Your mandragora will be buried beneath the potted lemon tree on my terrace. Thirty days—this is very important. If you take him out too early, he'll fail to thrive. If you leave him there beyond that, he'll suffocate. And when you unearth him he needs to be warmed in an oven with lemon verbena. I'll write it all down.”

“Why won't you be doing it?”

“I'm just saying . . .”

“Saying what?”

“Nothing. Just in case. Also, promise me you'll take Oscar back with you and take care of him, unless he wants to stay with my friend Bronwyn. I know I didn't want him at first, but he's been a really good guy.”

“Lily, you're talking like you're about to move on to the next dimension.”

“I want Jessica back, Aidan.”

“What is she to you?”

“An innocent. And I want to banish
La Llorona
while I'm at it. I'm willing to do what it takes.”

He sighed and looked at me for a long time. Gone was the slight mocking tone, the aw-shucks charm. Finally he took a deep breath and looked around at the trees and greenery of the park. Then he rubbed his hand over his cheek, as though assessing his whiskers.

“Well, Lily. You know as well as I do what you're inviting with that kind of attitude. I guess we'll just have to see that it doesn't come to that. I have to tell you, though, I feel like I'm being manipulated into helping you.”

“It's not that at all, Aidan. I don't even know whether you
can
help me. Maybe this is my fate. Things do seem to be lining up that way.”

“I don't believe that. I think for some reason you've talked yourself into this, as though you have to sacrifice yourself to prove something to somebody. Perhaps to yourself.”

“Okay, I think we're going a little overboard on Dr. Phil at this point.”

“I'm quite serious, Lily.”

“I don't need your psychoanalysis, Aidan, just your powers. Will you be there tonight? Call her and hold her for me?”

He gave me a curt nod, then walked me back to the shop in silence.

 

Bronwyn and Maya held their tongues for all of thirty seconds after Aidan left.

“Who in the world was
that
?”

“Trouble,” I said.

“Sexy trouble,” said Maya, as she and Bronwyn shared a smile.

There were no customers in the store. I looked at my friends and knew I needed all the help I could get tonight. I flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED.

“Bronwyn, I have a proposition for you. I need your coven.”

“You want to join the coven? That's wonderful news, Lily!”

“Actually, I'm asking more than that. Much more. I . . . I'm terrified I may be putting them in danger, but I need to piggyback on their power to go up against something very evil.”

To my utter relief and undying gratitude, Bronwyn just nodded and waited for me to elucidate.

“Have you ever heard of a demon called
La Llorona
?”

“It's a Mexican folktale, right?”

“It's not just Mexican . . . more important, it's not just a folktale.
La Llorona
is here in San Francisco. She's been haunting the Hunters Point neighborhood.”

“I even have a few stories from the seniors about her,” Maya interjected. “I thought she was just an urban legend.”

“I'm afraid not.”

“That's pretty hard to believe,” Bronwyn said.“I always imagined her out in the countryside somewhere. . . .”

“I guess she goes where she wants. There was a crime, many years ago, that might have attracted her. But I know she still haunts the Rio Grande, and others have reported her as far away as Peru and Montana,” I said. “But I want to banish her from here, at least.”

“That sounds . . . difficult. Dangerous,” said Bronwyn.

That was an understatement.

“There's more,” I said. “The most important part. She has the little girl, Jessica.”

“Jessica?” Maya asked. I nodded.

“Together there's a chance we could get her back. It has to be tonight, with the full moon.”

“There might be a problem if you need a full coven. . . .” Bronwyn trailed off. “I don't know if everyone will come. We might need extras.”

We both looked at Maya.

“It could be dangerous,” I said. “I think you'll all be safe—I'll do everything I can to make sure you are—but you have to know that it could be very dangerous. But the more women there are, the safer for everyone. Still, I wouldn't ask it of you, any of you, if I could think of any other way.”

“I'll be there if it will help,” Maya said. I could tell she didn't quite believe, but I had the sense that she would see enough tonight to make her a convert.

“I'll talk to the coven members,” Bronwyn assured me. “They'll only come if they understand the danger.”

“Also, could you ask Charles Gosnold to bring his boat to the India Basin dock, and keep it on standby? We might need it. The plan is that we'll meet at India Basin Shoreline Park at two a.m.”

“Not midnight?”

“
La Llorona
will be strongest, and therefore most present, at three a.m. It's the time between. We'll want to set up the altar and be in place ahead of time, and the circle must be cast by three o'clock. Any women attending should bring their talismans, any symbols of their strength as a group. Their solidarity, their faith in one another is their greatest power. Ask them all to wear black or white.”

I rubbed my eyes. I was so very tired.

“What else?” I wondered aloud.

“Broomsticks?” Maya asked.

“Very funny.”

“I wasn't exactly joking. I only know what I've seen on TV.”

I smiled. “Sorry. No broomsticks. But chalices. I'll have to brew.”

Bronwyn nodded.

Maya looked at me, her dark eyes sober, worried. “Are you sure about this, Lily? I've never seen you scared before.”

“Yes, you have. I'm scared just about every day.”

Bronwyn enveloped me in a bear hug, patting my back.

“And if . . . if anything happens,” I said, pulling away, “I think Oscar will be going back to his owner, but if not, promise me you'll take care of him.”

“Of course I will. But what could happen to you?”

“Nothing, I'm sure. Just in case.”

After burying Aidan's mandragora-to-be under my lemon tree on the terrace and writing out the final instructions for his birth, I also wrote out a quick will. It felt rather maudlin, but I thought I should clarify things. The store and its contents would go to Bronwyn, and my savings and stock portfolio to Maya to continue her education and research. I also asked Maya to send my mother a regular allowance.

The rest of the evening hours I spent brewing. Oscar stuck by my side, aiding me with his very presence. I called on the spirits with an intensity that I'd never known. At the crucial moment my helping spirit appeared overhead, just as always, but this time I did not look away. Instead, I lifted my gaze to meet its eyes, and appealed to it with all my heart.

Afterward, I lifted Oscar onto the counter so we could speak face-to-face.

“I don't know exactly what's going to happen tonight, Oscar.”

“Something big's going on, isn't it?”

“Bigger'n Dallas, as they say. And you're coming, because I'll need your help with the spell. But I want you to know that I've really loved having you around. You're a good guy. And if anything were to happen tonight—”

“Nothing will happen!”

“That's true. But if anything
were
to happen, you'll be taken care of.”

His eyes got watery. I couldn't stand to look at him anymore.

“Okay, enough of that,” I said, as businesslike as possible. “Help me carry this all out to the car, will you?”

We toted out several boxes filled with supplies. Leaving Oscar in the car, I returned to my apartment alone and took a few quiet moments to look around. My gaze took in hand-tatted lace curtains, the threadbare Turkish rug, the thrift-shop painting of red hills that reminded me of Texas. I cherished my apartment, my life here in San Francisco. I knew I could lose it all tonight. Still, I felt strangely calm, accepting of my fate, confident in my abilities.

As I was about to leave, I noticed my crystal ball still sitting out on the coffee table from my last unsuccessful effort.

I sat before it cross-legged, took a deep, calming breath, and gazed into its depths.

For the first time in my life, I saw something concrete: Graciela's lined face. Much older than I remembered her. Ancient. Gazing right back at me.

I felt tears prickle at the back of my eyes.

I picked up the phone and called the number I still remembered by heart.

Chapter 19

I arrived at the shore of the San Francisco Bay by one o'clock, and found that Bronwyn had come early with half a dozen women.They had set up a card table, covered it with a white cloth, and put out a thermos of hot apple cider and plates of homemade cookies. I had to smile. Just your average everyday midnight coven picnic . . .

Oscar was in his piggy form and wound around the women's feet, making friends and begging for cookies. The food, the pig, and the women's excited chatter lent a certain air of frivolity to the scene that I really appreciated. Sort of defused my tension.

I noticed when Aidan appeared on the dock, keeping his distance from the coven. He was ready to call in the fog, to compel
La Llorona
to show herself and then to keep her present. Meanwhile, I would confront Elisabeth, Frances's daughter—presuming Aidan's “invitation” was enough to compel her to show herself tonight, too. If all went well and I survived the night, I was going to be in serious debt to one powerful male witch.

Over the next hour the rest of the women arrived. There were some familiar faces: Maya came with her aunt Genevieve and her mother, Lucille, who insisted on bringing a warm casserole. Wendy from the café was there—apparently she was one of the regular coven priestesses—and I recognized a few other Haight Street neighbors. Many faces were new to me, but each woman met me warmly, holding my hands in hers, hugging me. The kindness and depth of their calm vibrations amazed me. They had shown up for no reason other than to help. How could I ever have been so dismissive of them?

When it was time I gathered them together and explained what we were doing and the role they would play. Once again I told them I would keep them from danger if I possibly could, but that I could not guarantee their safety. I invited anyone to leave right then, with no hard feelings.

“I know what I'm asking is impossible. But we're here for the sake of a child.”

“We're ready,” said Bronwyn. “You just take care of your part; we'll take care of ours. Trust us, Lily. That's what our group is all about.”

The witching hour was upon us.

First came the closing of the circle.

“Hand to hand, and heart to heart.” One after another the women clasped hands, touching the heart of the first woman, then the next. It continued, one by one, until the circle was closed.

Then a chant, led by Bronwyn, with a surprisingly steady, sweet voice.

She and the other priestesses stepped forward and began to draw down the moon.

I entered the circle and began to move with the chant, with the song. My spirit knife was in one hand, my medicine bag in the other. I moved without conscious thought, feeling the energy from these women surround me, enfold me. It was loving and safe, and so, so powerful. But it didn't feel out of control like my own powers often did; instead, it was smooth, mellow, secure and promising.

By the time the chant ended I realized I had gone into a semitrance, as easy as that.

Then came the offering of the brew.

The women held their chalices high, sending up the cone of power.

“
La Llorona
, we compel you!”