A thick brass gargoyle with a ring held in its mouth served as a door knocker. An older version of Tamara responded to Aisling’s use of it. She studied Aisling for only a second before looking past her and smiling slightly. “You must be Aisling. I’m Annalise, Tamara’s mother. She’s unavailable at the moment. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m here about a child who needs a home.”
Dark eyebrows rose, the smile widened. Ice slid down Aisling’s spine with the impression that she’d been expected.
Annalise stepped out of the doorway and confirmed Aisling’s suspicion by saying, “Come in. Levanna is waiting in the parlor.”
The inside of the house reminded Aisling of the luxury she’d found at the church, though the prewar artwork gracing the walls or residing on polished wooden furniture would have been viewed as sinful and destroyed if it had come into the hands of the religious. Naked men and woman danced and worshipped. They coupled in rites of fertility, their faces and bodies full of emotion and life.
“Ah, the shamaness is here,” Levanna said from the couch, her voice strong despite the frailty of a body shrunken and bent by age.
She wore a long black dress and was kept warm by a fringed shawl draped over boney shoulders. Her hair was silver, her eyes made sightless by cataracts, though Aisling imagined the Wainwright matriarch hadn’t needed them to see for a long time.
Annalise sat on the couch next to Levanna while Aisling claimed a chair across from them. “Tell us about the child,” Annalise said, and Aisling did, tracing on the coffee table the symbols she’d seen Anya draw in the sand and feeling relief when Annalise nodded, recognizing their importance.
“It’s good you came to us about her,” Levanna said. Her hand went to the spot where the ends of the black shawl overlapped, her fingers caressing the amulets and charms she wore. “It’s too late to retrieve Anya today, but first thing tomorrow we’ll send someone in good standing with the authorities to get her. We can ensure she has a good home, if not with us then with others who will attend to her training and care.”
Cataract-blinded eyes met Aisling’s as Levanna’s hand fell away from her shawl to reveal a pendant. The gold sun caught and held Aisling’s attention. Tendrils of awe and dread slid through her like whispers too faint to hear, knowledge just out of reach.
Annalise freed her from the amulet’s fascination by saying, “Tamara told us about her visit with you and why the Church brought you to Oakland. She confessed what she asked of you. I’m not surprised the father of her child met the end he did. He was like a lot of the rich younger sons who’ve taken to dabbling in magic and lost their lives because of it. You’ve heard a male sex witch has disappeared?”
“No. Raisa came by my house yesterday and introduced herself. She didn’t tell me about the sex witch, but she told me a governess went missing.”
“We heard about that as well. The governess wasn’t one of us, though we’re making inquiries,” Annalise said. “We don’t know the details of the witch’s disappearance yet. His family hasn’t come to us or asked for aid, but others have told us he went missing, along with the son of his wealthy patroness.”
Levanna leaned forward abruptly and the golden sun swung toward Aisling, making her breath catch involuntarily though there was no logical reason for her to react to the pendant.
“In my dreams I saw a dark priest and his followers slaughtered by a powerful demon,” Levanna said. “If you’re not careful, you’ll meet the same end as Henri and the vampire’s shaman. There are beings of absolute evil trying to break into this world and reclaim it. But despite our efforts and allies we haven’t been able to find the human servants who call those beings master.”
Aisling’s breath froze in her lungs. After trusting Cassandra so readily at the library, she didn’t dare risk making the same mistake by acknowledging what happened the night she’d gone into the ghostlands to find Elena. “Do you know what happened to the vampire’s shaman?” she asked instead.
“He was not a powerful shaman, yet his screams lingered and echoed in a nightmare shared by many of us with talents that brush against the spiritlands,” Levanna said, subtly acknowledging she was more than a witch who practiced nature-based magic. She settled against the back of the couch once again and tilted her head slightly toward Annalise. “Only my granddaughter saw anything of his passing.”
“He was strapped to a bed in a cold basement room of the church,” Annalise said. “Bishop Routledge was there, as was Father Ursu. There was only a sliver of awareness between his waking and finding himself there, and when they anointed him with Ghost and told him to seek its source. That’s all I saw before the screaming began.”
Zurael’s words whispered in Aisling’s thoughts. No one is beyond suspicion.
They were followed by John’s taunt in the ghostlands. I see they’ve sent a sacrificial lamb. Or maybe that’s Elena’s role. Then again, maybe third time’s the charm.
Elena’s visit and the pouch full of coins took on a new meaning, making Aisling wonder if the Church had played a role in her abduction, if the man branded for summoning and lying with a demon had repented his sins and sought penance from the Church, only to be disposed of when it was done.
Aisling didn’t think it was likely that there were two men wearing the same brands. She didn’t think it was a coincidence he’d been killed.
She shuddered, glad she hadn’t gone to Father Ursu with questions about the Ghost seller. “Do the vampires know what happened to their shaman?”
Levanna said, “Those in power know. But they bide their time and pretend ignorance. If the Church has suspicions about who is behind the creation of Ghost, then it’s someone they’re afraid to act openly against.
“The vampires are content for the moment to let the Church’s game play out. If the barrier between our world and the spirit world breaks down because of Ghost, then the humans without gifts will once again fear those of us who have them. Their fear will lead to blame and to violence, both of which will soon spill over to the vampires as the Church and its allies are given an excuse to claim the wealth accumulated in San Francisco.”
Aisling nodded in understanding. Stockton and the surrounding areas had come under Church and non-gifted human control because of violence waged as a result of fear and blame. It’d happened long before she was born, when a wave of disease killed children by the dozens.
Weres and vampires were hunted and slaughtered, blamed for carrying the sickness. Some of the gifted were killed as well, accused of creating the illness through magic or for harboring the supernaturals responsible for it.
Levanna’s hand lifted to the sun pendant and drew Aisling’s eye. “You should return home in case the family of the young sex witch comes to you on his behalf. Travel carefully. We will send word tomorrow when the child has been retrieved from The Mission.”
Aisling took her cue and left.
“You had a successful visit?” Zurael asked as Aziel launched himself from his shoulder to hers.
“Yes.”
Aisling told him what had transpired with the Wainwright witches as they walked toward her house. When they rounded the corner, they saw Raisa waiting there with a young woman.
“I don’t like this,” Zurael said. “We don’t know where Raisa’s loyalties lie. If this is about the missing sex witch, it could be a trap set for you in the spiritlands.”
Aisling shivered as Levanna’s warnings slid down her spine like ice. “I’ll be careful.”
“You’ll turn them away without offering your services.”
She stopped and he turned to face her. Strength of purpose gave Aisling the courage to stand up to him. “I’ll listen to what they say and make my own decision.”