I wasn’t much of one to judge. My own relationships haven’t turned out so well, Campbell being one notable example. But at least we were still friends, and there was clearly still something between us. We’d both been through some changes, and although we never talked about it, there was that someday possibility hanging around. And surely if Victor could find someone, there was hope yet even for me. At least I’m easier to get along with than he is. I think.
“Okay, then,” Campbell said. “We’ll be back in a while.”
We took my van, and the place she had in mind was a botanica over on Church Street in upper Noe Valley, not far from where I live. I’d passed by it many times before but never had reason to go inside. The front display windows were dusty and crammed with every sort of object imaginable, all related in some way to religion or magic. Miracle candles. Statues of the Virgin Mary and various saints, all with copper-wire halos. A large statue of many-armed Kali next to an African wood carving of an ibis. Dolls with rose-patterned gowns hanging on wires from a tree branch. Scattered throughout, seashells and dried starfish from the sea. And tucked discreetly in a corner, something labeled herbal Viagra.
The woman behind the counter stared at me with a flat, impassive expression that darkened when she saw a small dog at my side, invading her precious sanctum. But when she saw who was with me a broad smile transformed her face. She rushed out from behind the counter and embraced Campbell, still looking suspiciously at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Campbell!” she said, with just a trace of an accent. She wore a white baseball cap perched jauntily over a grandmotherly face. I couldn’t even begin to guess her race or ethnicity.
“Hello, Mama Yara. How have you been?”
“Good, good. And you?”
Campbell just shrugged. She noticed the eye Mama Yara was giving me.
“Mama, this is a friend of mine,” she said. The suspicious look did not abate. Campbell altered her tone, almost as if she were reciting a ritual. “I have helped him and he has helped me.”
Mama Yara relaxed and the suspicious expression faded, but I can’t say it was replaced by any actual warmth. She turned back to Campbell.
“You are needing some herbs, I would guess.”
“I do indeed. And I’m in a hurry. A bad wound, and a friend.”
Mama Yara nodded and made her way back toward the counter, Campbell in tow. I looked around the store, politely keeping my distance. The floor was painted a sky blue, faded with age. A series of white lines, barely visible, delineated astrological signs. Fresh flowers abounded, along with plants, more statues, bronze censers, and bells of all different shapes and sizes.
“I could use some pau d’arco,” I heard Campbell say. “And some white cobol.”
“Some benzoin of Sumatra, you think?” Mama Yara asked. “It could help.”
“Surely. It couldn’t hurt. And most important, I need some . . .”
Her voice trailed off and I didn’t catch the rest. Whatever she was asking for must have been special, because I could see Mama Yara’s eyebrows go up and she lowered her voice. She glanced over at me again, clearly not happy to have me there despite Campbell’s vouching for me. It felt like we were scoring dope from a particularly paranoid dealer.
The bell over the door tinkled as another customer came in, a woman. I glanced over briefly and then looked again. Tall, willowy, long red hair, and longer legs. A sleeveless top showing off two dragon tattoos, one red and one green, curling down each arm. A striking figure, but that wasn’t why I gave a second look. I knew her.
It was Ruby, a practitioner I hadn’t seen for years. I hadn’t known her well, but she wasn’t someone you forget. Also, I’d pursued her with some determination when we first met, oblivious to the fact she was gay, until she casually mentioned an ex-girlfriend to help clue in the clueless.
She noticed me the same time I noticed her, and her face lit up with delight. Apparently, all was forgiven and forgotten.
“Mason!” she said. “I’ve been meaning to look you up. How have you been?”
“Getting by,” I said. “You? I thought you’d left the city for good—didn’t you move to Paris or something?”
“Florence,” she said. “Studying art. And some other things. Have you heard of Giancarlo?”
I certainly had. Giancarlo was not only in the same league as Eli in terms of magical scholarship but he also possessed the same innate level of talent as did Victor. Giancarlo was also a magical enforcer of sorts, although from what I’d heard, more like a Mafia don than a cop. He and Eli were great Internet friends.
“You were studying with Giancarlo?” I said, impressed.
“I was. The last five years, to be exact.” She bent down as Lou rushed over to greet her. I remembered he’d liked her. “Louie. Good to see you, too.” She pulled gently on his ears for a moment before straightening up.
“Are you back for a while?” I asked.
“Yep. Back for good, or at least that’s my plan. Are you still playing music?”
“As often as I can.”
“Still working with Victor?”
“Only when I have to.”
She laughed. “Not much has changed, I see.”
In some ways that was true, although a lot had happened in the last few years.
Campbell came out of a back room where Mama Yara had taken her, saw us talking together, and joined us. Introductions were made, and Ruby looked curiously at the herbs Campbell was holding.
“What’s that root you’re holding?” she asked. “That’s new to me.”
The conversation took off from there, and I was momentarily forgotten. I didn’t blame Ruby—I’m sure she was interested in the herbs, but it didn’t hurt that Campbell was hot; no doubt about that. She’d let her blond hair grow out, and even though she was wearing nondescript clothes and standing in a dingy herb store, nothing could hide her vitality and energy. A strong face and a toned, athletic body—she was an outdoors girl all the way. Unfortunately for Ruby, Campbell was also completely straight. Or at least I assumed she was from previous experience, but if anyone could make a woman think twice, it would be Ruby. She turned back to me after just a minute, though.
“I’m actually glad I ran into you,” she said. “Apart from wanting to see you. You’re still in touch with Victor, right?”
I certainly was, considering Campbell and I were at the botanica collecting herbs for his recovery. Ruby didn’t know that, but she did know that the last time she’d seen me I had been working for him, and she knew that Victor is the chief magical enforcer for San Francisco and the Bay Area. It’s his job to keep an eye on the magical practitioners living here, making sure they don’t use their special talents to scam civilians, win beauty contests, fix elec tions, or any of the other things that might occur to an unscrupulous person who possesses magical talent.
Chief enforcer is an impressive title, but maybe less so once you realize he’d appointed himself to the job. Practitioner society isn’t very structured—there are no official titles or positions. Practitioners are far too individualistic to develop any sort of hierarchical system. But without Victor and those like him, that society would soon devolve into chaos, with each practitioner doing whatever struck his fancy.
Then our existence would become widely known—already far too many people have at least an inkling that the world is not as prosaic as it seems to be. What would happen after that is anyone’s guess, but judging from the history of mankind, it wouldn’t be pretty. Laws passed against the practice of magic. Suspicion, envy, blame, and eventually lynch mobs. And although some of us do possess impressive abilities, our numbers aren’t large and one army special forces unit could cause us a lot of grief. We’d put up a good fight, but you can’t take on the whole world.
So, some type of magical enforcement squad, official or not, was a necessity. And for a while I worked for Victor as part of his enforcement group, along with Sherwood and Eli. Sherwood and I had been together for a time, but it hadn’t worked out. Then, about a year ago, she had fallen victim to a bad practitioner. That loss had left its mark on me. Eli, my mentor and best friend, didn’t exactly work for Victor—he acted more as an elder statesman and an adviser. Victor relied on Eli and seldom went against his advice. I was either a valued colleague or a low-level employee, depending on the day.
Eventually I’d got tired of playing cops and robbers and quit the group. I wasn’t cut out for the job anyway. I started playing music full-time as a jazz guitarist, my true passion, and I was a whole lot happier, though poorer.
But then some unpleasant things started happening in the city. Ifrits were vanishing, and someone kept trying to kill me for reasons I didn’t understand. Sherwood talked me into coming back to the group, and we eventually found out who was responsible—but there had been a price to pay. There always is.
Then, not long after, more trouble. Dead practitioners, and worse—others whose minds had been destroyed, leaving nothing but a husk behind. And finally, although the person responsible had eventually been stopped, there was one small matter that still needed to be taken care of—the creature we’d been hunting.
But all that history would take an hour to relate, so all I said was, “Of course. Just came from his house, as a matter of fact.”
“That’s good. I need to talk to him.”
“You looking for a job?”
“You never know. Actually, he offered me one before I left for Florence. I didn’t think I could handle it back then. But that’s not it. There’s something odd going on in this city, and I was wondering if he’d heard anything about it.”
“What kind of odd?”
“The kind that Victor deals in. I’ve got an idea about something, but I’m not sure I’m on the right track. There’s . . . Well, I don’t know what it is, but I think there’s some sort of creature wandering around these days, and I think it might be dangerous. Have you read about those hikers that have been savaged lately?” That got my attention.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re aware of it. There is something out there—in fact, we’ve been trying to hunt it down ourselves.”
“What is it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where did it come from?”
“We’re not sure.”
That wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t know what it was, but I did know it had come from an energy pool that I’d helped create. We had been testing the theory that Ifrits are actually creations of a practitioner’s subconscious. The idea had been to create an Ifrit, and it had worked, sort of. Except, as usual, things didn’t go according to plan—what had come out of that pool was no Ifrit, and it was dangerous.
Campbell had a puzzled expression on her face. She started to say something, then thought better of it. Ruby put her hand on my arm.
“Well, I’d like to talk to Victor about it. Maybe I could help. I learned a lot over in Italy.”
“I can well imagine. Giancarlo’s got quite the reputation.”
The bell tinkled on the door to the shop, and Ruby looked up and waved at the person coming through it.
“I’ve got to talk to Mama Yara,” she said to me. “Be back in a sec.” She left my side and went over to the counter where Mama Yara stood.
It looked like Mama Yara’s botanica was practitioner central today. I also knew the practitioner standing in the doorway. Everyone knew Ramsey, though few were glad they did. He might not have been the worst practitioner in the city, but he had to be the most annoying.
“Mason,” he said, holding out his hand as he came toward me. I gave the hand a lukewarm shake and had trouble retrieving it.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said. “Ruby and I are onto something. I left Victor a message, but he hasn’t got back to me.”
No surprise there. Ramsey was a wannabe enforcer, always bugging Victor about a job, and providing bits of information about totally inconsequential things. He would have made a great enforcer, except for his lack of three small things: talent, judgment, and intelligence. To make up for that, his personality was nonexistent, except for the ability to clear a room at any party five minutes after entering it.
“Well, Victor’s been busy lately,” I said.
He nodded knowingly.
“Yeah, lots of stuff going on.”
He spotted Lou and ran over to him. He bent down and picked him up, something Lou hates, even with people he likes, and Ramsey wasn’t one of those. I saw Lou’s mouth open slightly. He was going to bite him; I just knew it. For a second I thought about watching it play out, but that wouldn’t have been very mature on my part. Amusing, yes, but not a good thing.
“Lou,” I cautioned. He glanced over at me defiantly, but he closed his mouth. Ramsey continued pull on his ears, totally oblivious to the byplay. Finally he put Lou down and walked back over to me.
“So, did Ruby tell you what we’re working on?”
“She mentioned there was something odd going on.”
“Odd? Bizarre is more like it. This is something we really should look into.”
I loved his use of “we.” Ramsey was like those wannabe cops who can never make it onto the force, so they become security guards. They wear their uniforms, tailored to look as much like real cops as the law allows, with pride and a certain amount of arrogance. They put scanners in their cars to keep track of police calls and show up at unexpected times, always oh-so-helpful, always acting with an odd combination of contempt for civilians and obsequiousness toward real cops. They’re a sad lot, but they can be dangerous as well—occasionally you read about one of them shooting a shoplifter who refuses to turn out his pockets on demand.