A Vision in Velvet: A Witchcraft Mystery (16 page)

“I’m not sure. I asked a friend to try to delay it.”

“They can’t cut it down! It’s home to . . .” He trailed off and looked up into the branches. I followed suit. “To squirrels and birds and . . . and all sorts of things. There’s still life left in it. Look at the new green on those far branches. They can’t just cut it down.”

“I agree. I’m hoping to stop it. Do you have any pull, do you think, as a member of the Cal Academy? Maybe Nina . . . ?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll try. It was . . . nice to see you,” he finished rather lamely.

“Same here.”

“Oh, we’re having a big event tonight at the Cal Academy of Sciences. Cocktails, and frogs, and other things. You should come.”

“Actually, Hannah mentioned it to me yesterday. Sure, I’ll try.”

He loped off in the direction of the main road.

“You’ve got a date now?” Sailor asked as he came to join me.

“Yes, Sailor. I’m going to throw you over for Lance, the bumbling scientist. He’s just my type.”

“Don’t even joke about that. The party’s tonight? I can’t go with you. I promised to take my aunt to a family event—where, among other things, I was hoping to ask around for any information leading to a certain lost pig.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’d rather you follow up with your family.”

“I don’t want you going alone.”

“You’re seriously afraid I’ll run off with Lance?”

“No, but with everything going on lately, I don’t like the thought of you running around town without me.”

“I have to be without you
some
times. And lest you forget, I’m a pretty powerful witch.” I was painfully aware that I was omitting one fascinating tidbit: that Lance worked with Bart’s niece, Hannah’s sister. I still wasn’t sure how that fit in, but it seemed significant. But if I told Sailor, he would insist on coming with me.

Sailor went to stand very close to the massive trunk of the tree, stretching his arms out as though he were going to hug it.

“You’re right about this tree being odd,” he said. “It doesn’t take much to figure that out. Here’s what’s strange: I sense something ancient.”

“It’s a very old tree.”

“Not as old as what I’m feeling. I’m talking . . .
ancient
.”

“Dude and dudette!” Conrad’s voice rang out as he came to join us under the tree. He looked at Sailor; his voice dropped and his words rang with earnestness.
“That’s really beautiful, man, to see you express your love for the tree like that. A lot of guys wouldn’t feel secure doing something like that out in the open.”

Sailor muttered something under his breath.

“Yes, Conrad, you’re right,” I interjected. “It’s a lovely thing to see a man open up and hug a tree if he feels like it, isn’t it? Especially a big manly man in his motorcycle gear.”

“True that.” Conrad nodded. “Was that the scientist dude I saw leaving right now?”

I nodded.

“He’s the tree lady’s friend. He knows a lot about frogs, which is
awesome
. Frogs transform from fish into land animals in, like, metamorphosis. It’s like when I found out caterpillars become butterflies. It, like . . .” He put his fingers to his brain and blew it up, making the sound of a gunshot. “Blows my mind, dude.”

I cringed at his gesture. What with a man being shot under this tree not long ago, it didn’t seem wise to tempt the fates.

I looked up into the branches of the tree. It looked so innocent by the light of day, broad, strong arms reaching out as though to embrace and welcome all who would shade themselves under its leaves. To provide a home to squirrels and nesting birds, trails of ants and scores of passing insects. Its low crooks seemed to beckon for a tree house to be built, for someone to make their home here among the branches, or at least a child’s clubhouse.

Its bark was split here and there in an intriguing pattern of gray and black streaks, with lighter core wood peeking out. If a person looked long enough into that bark, they could start to see pictures. A house here, a bird’s leg there. A face.

I studied it for a long while, wondering whether, if I
concentrated hard enough, I might make out a monkeylike snout or batlike ears.

But I saw nothing beyond wood and bark, cool and silent as any other tree.

* * *

Just as I was getting ready to open Aunt Cora’s Closet for the day, up walked a man with a pig.

Not Oscar. Some regular, big, fat farmyard pig. It had huge black spots on an otherwise pink skin and snorted loudly while stomping its little cloven hooves.

“I heard the story on the radio,” the man said. He was about my age, with the weathered look of someone who worked out of doors. Dirty blue jeans, a John Deere ball cap, and a Raiders T-shirt. “’Bout how you were lookin’ for a pig.”

Sailor and I stared at the man and the pig for a long moment.

“We’re looking for a miniature potbellied pig who ran away,” I said. “Not looking to
buy
a pig.”

“Really?” The man looked crestfallen. “
Shoot
. We got foreclosed on. We’re living with my mother-in-law in her mobile home out in Niles Valley. Temporary. I was hoping Miss Nelly here might have a good home with all y’all.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, noting his accent.

“Tennessee. Came here a coupla years ago; thought I might do okay with a little piece of land my wife’s family had. But with the way things are now, we weren’t able to hold on to it. Now I don’t even have anyplace to keep the pig. If I come back with the pig and no cash . . .” He shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “I was hoping we could find a good home for Miss Nelly and maybe collect the reward.”

“Surely there are lots of people who would buy a . . . Miss Nelly.”

The man shrugged. “It’s my girl’s seventh birthday tomorrow. I was really hoping to come home with the doll she wanted from the store.”

I took pity on him, shelled out some money, and assured him I would find a good home for his pig.

After I saw the man out, I noticed Sailor was sitting on the velvet bench near the dressing rooms, a mocking look on his face.

“What?” I said, feeling defensive and wondering how I was going to explain this latest acquisition to my coworkers when they arrived.

“First you make a date with the bumbling scientist, and now you’re accepting strange pigs from perfect strangers. And you wonder why I worry about leaving you alone. If this is what goes on right under my nose, just imagine what trouble you could get into all by your lonesome.”

I smiled despite myself and held his gaze from across the store, over racks of frothy negligees and frilly prom dresses. I straightened, holding on to the leash of my new pig with as much dignity as I could muster.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have a new pig. And here I was, planning on giving him to you as a gift. Surely one of your relatives . . . ?”

“Just because I have a big extended family doesn’t mean I want to take your cast-off pig. We’re more the
urban
gypsy types.”

“I thought maybe somebody lived on a farm somewhere. Maybe I should ask Carlos. I’ll make some phone calls. In the meantime . . . I don’t know, maybe I could keep her in the alley? She’s a little . . . fragrant.”

Sailor helped me to urge the creature out to the alley behind the store, where I tied her to a post. She snorted and looked up at me with sweet eyes. I’d never been a pig fan—never thought about them much, to tell the
truth—but now that Oscar was in my life I felt I had a new appreciation for the beasts. Still and all, I needed to find the poor thing a real home, and soon.

I left the back door open so I could keep an eye on her.

“You do realize, don’t you, that there are probably ordinances against this sort of thing?” said Sailor. “Livestock in the city and all that.”

“Wendy mentioned that yesterday—she was wondering if it was legal for me to keep Oscar here. How would I find out something like that without making somebody suspicious?”

“Maybe put Maya on it? She’s awfully good at ferretting out information.”

“Good idea. I’ll have her do that, maybe, while she finds this little beauty a new home.”

“That last will be easy enough. Bacon is very popular.”

“
Shhh
. Miss Nelly might hear you. She’ll go to a petting zoo or something. Not . . . you know.”

Sailor gave me a lopsided grin. “I’ve seen you eat meat, you little hypocrite.”

“Not once I know it up close and personal. I refuse to eat meat if I know its name. And besides . . . ever since Oscar’s been in my life, pork has been off the menu. But you’re right—I suppose I should just go vegan and have done with it.”

He chuckled. “Well, now that you have a temporary replacement pig, I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you. In all seriousness: Promise me that you won’t go to that cocktail party alone tonight. Just in case.”

“It will be mobbed with people.”

“Still.”

I nodded. “I’ll see if the gang will go with me. Bronwyn and Maya . . . maybe Duke would be interested in coming along.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see if I can find anything out from Renna or any of the rest of the clan. Call me after the party?”

I nodded and we said our good-byes.

Mere minutes after Sailor’s departure, Aidan walked through my door.

As usual with Aidan, the bell over the door failed to chime; as usual, he strode in and assessed the inventory like he owned the place. But unusually, he was accompanied by his feline familiar, Noctemus.

“Lily, it is always such a pleasure to see you here among your things. To tell you the truth, when you first came to town and set up shop, I didn’t understand your choice of retail. But now it seems just right, just perfect for you. All these silks and satins match your vibrations perfectly.”

“Um . . . thank you?” I said, not sure how to respond. I watched Noctemus strutting around the floor and worried she would leave long white hairs on the merchandise. “Did you find out anything about Oscar? What did the woodsfolk say?”

“I haven’t been able to speak with them yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet? Aidan—”

“There were some unexpected developments. I told you, these things are never easy. The Good People are very . . . touchy.”

“So I hear. Did you find out anything at all?”

“Apparently they’re short on gorse blossoms this year.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s as far as the talks have gotten.”

“Aidan, I have to get Oscar
back
. It’s driving me crazy. Among other things, I can’t even do magic like I could when he was around. He helped me open the portals.”

“I could give you a loaner.”

“A loaner?”

He lifted Noctemus toward me. She hissed at me. I reared back. “I told you, I’m allergic to cats.”

“I have a few others that might do the trick. Let me just see. . . .” He took an ancient-looking leather-bound notebook out of his breast pocket and started thumbing through the crumbling old parchment pages. It reminded me of a much smaller version of the ledger Sailor and I had taken from Sebastian’s antiques store. I wondered whether Carlos would come through with the photocopy for me.

“Ah, here’s one. Manifests as a dog. Do you like dogs?”

“I love dogs, but what am I going to do, just take any old familiar? I already have one, one I love.”

He flipped through a few more pages, a tiny frown of concentration between his eyebrows. “Mm-hmm . . . No, not that . . . Aha! A goat, maybe? They’re quite clever. . . .”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t think we’ll be able to get Oscar back? That’s not possible, Aidan.” He continued to search the book, ignoring me. I leaned closer to him. “Listen to me, Aidan. I am not giving up on Oscar; you hear me? I am
not
giving up on him.”

Things started to fly around us in the store. Aidan held up his arm just in time to deflect a plaid miniskirt on a hanger. It bounced off his forearm.

“All right. All right. Calm down. I’m just saying . . . it’s not impossible, no. But it will be tough. And extremely expensive.”

“Expensive as in cash?” I immediately started adding
up in my head: my savings, a money market account, some stocks. If necessary, I would use my magic to get more. It was an ethical gray area, but at the moment I didn’t care. Whatever it took.

“Costly, I should say. I really think right now what you need to do is calm down and have a little faith.”

“How am I supposed to have faith when two minutes ago you were trying to foist off a goat on me, for land’s sake.”

I tapped my foot, tried to keep a lid on my emotions, and gathered my thoughts. “All right, let’s change topics for a moment. What can you tell me about hereditary love curses?”

“You and Sailor not doing well?” he asked, overly interested.

“This has nothing to do with us; we’re fine, thank you very much. I was asking for someone else.”

“I offer a very reasonably priced package deal.”

“I guess I assumed you were expensive.”

“That’s a relative term. What’s true love worth?”

Good question. Now that I thought about it, I wondered whether Bart had already tried going to Aidan in search of a cure. Aidan advertised for this sort of thing, after all. And, according to Sailor and Oscar, Sebastian Crowley might have been keeping tabs on some of Aidan’s clients for him.

But I’d promised Bart my discretion. And I didn’t trust Aidan. What if—

There was a loud snorting sound from the rear of the store. Miss Nelly had come in as far as she could, given her lead. She appeared to have gotten lonely.

Aidan turned back to me, one eyebrow raised. “A pig in the alley? Really? And you’re looking down your nose at a goat?”

“It’s a long story. . . .” It was just past ten in the
morning, the shop wasn’t even officially open yet, and already I felt weary.

Aidan seemed to notice the defeated tone in my voice.

“Why don’t you try to forget about this for a bit?” he suggested. “Maybe take the day off, go to the ocean with your ‘boyfriend.’ I take it you two are still enamored of each other?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, I think it’s very much my business. You deprived me of a very good, very beholden psychic. Now I’m just hanging out here, all alone, without anyone to help me. . . .”

“Cry me a river, mister. You’ve got plenty up your sleeve.”

Aidan grinned, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Hey, speaking of Sailor,” I continued. “Are you doing something to block his sight?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Sailor’s abilities are diminished?”

Only then did it dawn on me that Sailor might not want me to mention this sort of thing to Aidan, his archnemesis.

“Just leave him alone, will you?” I said.

Aidan smiled his enigmatic smile, picked up his cat, winked, and left.

* * *

To my surprise, Maya, Bronwyn, and Duke all wanted to attend tonight’s event, entitled Cocktails and Frogs, a Leaping Good Time. Even Conrad accepted my invitation to join us. He had been doing so much work with the campaign to find Oscar, hanging around the store every day, and I’d been feeding him. He seemed more with it lately; whether it was the result of having regular meals
and a purpose, or simply not being on as many substances, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I was enjoying his company.

So the whole entourage was going. Whether I would find out anything regarding Lance or Bart’s nieces I didn’t know, but frankly, an evening spent with friends, cocktail in hand, checking out a natural history museum, sounded like the best idea I’d had in ages.

Better by far than sitting at home trying to ignore Oscar’s empty nest.

But I was still beside myself, wondering if there was any way to communicate with the woodsfolk. Aidan was a bust so far, Sailor was checking with his aunt Renna, and my voodoo friend Herve didn’t have this kind of relationship with the Good People. But there was one other person who might know something . . . and I’d wanted to introduce her to Bronwyn for some time now, anyway.

“Bronwyn, you know I’ve mentioned my new friend Calypso to you? I’ve been thinking you two should meet,” I said later in the day, when Missing Pig Central was in full swing and Maya had plenty of company in the shop. “Any interest in taking a drive and meeting her?”

“This is the woman with the gardens and the beehives?”

“The very one.”

“I’d love to!”

“I’ll stay here with Maya,” offered Duke. “And Miss Nelly.”

I had taken a fair amount of ribbing over the pig in the alley, but Maya thought she would be able to find a place for it soon. In the past couple of days she had gotten to know the local animal shelters, vets, and animal control officers that dealt with every sort of domesticated animal, as well as livestock.

“Thank you, Duke. That would be great.” The SFPD radio car still rolled by from time to time, and the shop was full of Bronwyn’s coven sisters, Starr and Wendy among them, as well as several of Maya’s cousins, and her parents. I felt sure she was safe.

The drive out of San Francisco was sunny, though a wall-like bank of fog lingered just off the mouth of the bay, as though trying to decide whether to roll over the city or to recede. For now, at least, the sun glinted off the water as we passed over the majestic Golden Gate Bridge. Bronwyn and I spoke of anything besides Oscar as I drove; Aidan’s warning still rang in my head, and though I was pretty sure he had been exaggerating, I didn’t want to take any chance of losing my temper and accidentally causing some damage to the iconic bridge.

After a windy drive along Highway 1 we finally came to an unmarked turnoff onto a dirt road and squeezed the car through an opening in a tall, thick hedge. The big yellow Victorian farmhouse had creamy white trim, a huge wraparound porch, and was surrounded by lush gardens on all sides. Rose trees lined the path to the front door, a calico cat slept on a porch swing, and there was a large attached greenhouse to the back.

Bronwyn gasped and clasped her hands over her chest. “It looks like something out of a fairy tale book.”

“I know, right? I always think of a picture in a calendar, especially with the cat curled up on the porch swing like that.”

Before we even pulled to a halt, Calypso opened the front door. She was a tall, elegant woman in her late fifties, her silver hair swept into a bun. Her eyes were kind, her smile warm. She had that deep, resonant calm that I had come to associate, since I had moved to the Bay Area, with people who meditate. Or perhaps she was just supremely happy in her own skin.

She gave me a big hug. This sort of thing made me feel
awkward—I’m not really a hugger—but Bronwyn stepped up and moved in for a hug as well, even before I’d introduced them.

“I’m Bronwyn,” she said. “It is
such
a pleasure to finally meet you! My goddess, I am already enamored with you—this place is incredible!”

Calypso laughed a deep, husky laugh, returned the hug, and offered her a tour. As they made their way arm in arm toward the gardens, I realized I had been right: They were clearly sisters of the heart.

Half an hour later, we wound up in the kitchen, where Calypso heated water in a copper kettle, while Bronwyn shared several samples of her herbal blends.

“Well,” said Bronwyn, “I know Lily wanted to speak to you in private, so how about I take my tea into the greenhouse? I’m sure I could entertain myself out there for hours!”

She left Calypso and me at the kitchen table, made of rustic oak worn smooth with the hands of those who had sat here over the years.

“Is it Aidan?” Calypso asked before I had a chance to begin. She and Aidan had history, as they say. I didn’t know what had happened between them and wasn’t sure I
wanted
to know. But one thing was sure: She knew the man better than I did—perhaps better than I ever would.

“I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It’s a little complicated, and I don’t want to bore you with all the details. But the most important thing is that my familiar has gone missing.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. A cat?”

“No . . . a miniature potbellied pig.”

“
Really
. Huh. Surely he can’t have got far without being seen.”

I hesitated. Oscar wasn’t “out” to very many of us. As far as I knew, only Sailor, Aidan, and I were aware of his true form. And one or two bad guys he’d gone up
against, but I was pretty sure they assumed they’d imagined his natural form due to stress, once they thought back on it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Calypso said, her eyes kind. “But I can’t help unless I know what kind of creature he is. And I won’t betray a confidence; nor will I be surprised.”

I nodded, sipped my tea, and made a decision. “Oscar isn’t a regular familiar. He was a gift from Aidan. In his natural form, he’s sort of a cross between a goblin and a gargoyle. He’s . . .” Precious, is what he was. If I had been able to cry, I’m sure my eyes would have filled with tears.

A fern frond tapped my shoulder, distracting me. I looked up to see the delicate hanging plant twisting lazily in the breeze from the open window, its trailing arms reaching out.

“Oscar’s a shape-shifter, then?” Calypso said. “How amazing. I wasn’t sure those truly existed—I’ve never actually seen one.”

“He’s real, all right. But he’s disappeared, and I think something magical is going on.” I told her the story of the tree, and Sebastian’s death, and Oscar’s disappearance.

“You say the last time you saw him he was up in the tree?”

I nodded.

“And it’s a California live oak?” She brought a large book of trees over to the table and showed me a picture.

“Yes, that’s the one.
Quercus agrifolia
.” That must have been where Conrad and his friends got the name, Ms. Quercus.

Calypso nodded. “
Agrifolia
refers to the sharp points on the leaves, as opposed to the oak trees pictured in most European art, for example. They can live for hundreds of years.”

“I have the sense this one’s pretty old. Its trunk is massive. Are there any stories associated with oak trees that you know? Any folklore I should consider?”

She sipped her tea, fragrant of cinnamon and apple. “There are several stories out of Europe, mostly about trees taking vengeance. There’s the chained oak of Staffordshire, for example. . . .”

“I heard about that one. But nothing closer, nothing with regards to the
Quercus agrifolia
?”

“Around here it’s the redwoods that really attract that kind of folklore. They send up faery circles, that kind of thing. And of course you know about the dangers associated with sleeping under flowering
brugmansia
. But no, I’m not familiar with oaks being particularly supernatural.”

“What if, for example, a person’s ashes were buried at its base and soaked into the tree . . . ? Could that person’s energy become part of the heartwood?”

Again, I found myself transfixed by Calypso’s steady gaze. She seemed to pause before she spoke, which had the effect of making me listen that much harder.

“Trees are living, responsive beings. I know many people would argue with me, but they have souls and personalities, just as do the footed creatures. But because they draw sustenance and are connected so directly to the land, they are affected by it, just as we are by what we eat and see and experience.”

I nodded.

“What kind of person are we talking about? Who did these ashes belong to?”