“Is it safe now?” Morgan asked.
“As safe as I can make it,” Victor said. “Nothing’s getting in here.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, nothing of the magical variety. No practitioners. No creatures. You’ll still need locks against burglars.”
“What about Mason? Can he come in if I want him to?”
“Sure, as long as you invite him in. The wards are attuned to you.”
“You mean like a vampire movie? He can’t come in unless I invite him?”
“Not the metaphor I would have chosen,” I said. “But, yes, basically.”
“That’s kind of cool, actually.” She looked out a window at the backyard. “What about the backyard? I spend a lot of time out there, in the garden. Do I have to stay in the house all the time?”
“It’s hard to properly ward an open area,” Eli said. “We could make it safer, though, strong enough to slow something down and give you time to get inside.”
Victor looked over at me.
“Do you think you could handle that?” he said.
I was stunned. First, that he was admitting, at least implicitly, that he was worn-out. And second, that he would even think of trusting me to do something like that. Luckily, both he and Eli had taught me a lot about warding last year when my own place had needed serious protection. And since the yard was a separate area my work wouldn’t interfere with Victor’s house wards.
“Sure,” I said.
I wasn’t sure at all, but it wouldn’t help Morgan’s peace of mind if I hemmed and hawed. I walked down the back stairs, and I liked what I saw. A tall ivy-covered fence surrounded the entire yard, no breaks, nice and even. On either side, the fence came right up to the house. I could attach the wards in the yard to the warded house, and the even height of the fence made warding the rest of the yard an easy task.
Most of my talent is the improvisational sort, but I have learned some other skills. I didn’t have enough power to properly ward the entire fence, so I laid a tiny line of force around the top of it, like a guide wire. I poured all the energy I had into one corner and bound it up with the ivy growing on the fence. It sat there quietly glowing. So now, although the rest of fence was basically unprotected, the minute anything tried to climb over or break through, the bound force would travel along the guide wire to the appropriate spot and stop it cold. In effect, the entire fence was now protected as strongly as the small section where I’d put all my focus. Eli was observing, and he smiled approvingly.
“A very elegant solution. You’re learning, boy.”
Morgan was appreciative of our help, but at the same time was understandably disturbed. Eli assured her it was just a precaution.
“You don’t have to hide inside the house all the time,” he said. “Just be careful-don’t go out alone late at night, for example.”
“Like as if I had a stalker.”
“Yes, something like that. And if you’re spooked about anything, give one of us a call.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I will.”
I WENT HOME FOR A WELL-DESERVED REST, BUT had barely managed to sit down when Ruby called.
“Good, you’re home,” she said. “I think I’m onto something. Or maybe something’s onto me. I’m sitting at a café, over on Valencia and Twentieth, enjoying a soy latte.”
“I’m not sure that counts as a grand discovery, but it does sounds nice.”
“At a table in the back, there’s a practitioner watching me. He’s been shadowing me all day, but he’s been shielding and I could never get a good look at him-until now. He’s still shielding, but just hiding his talent, so I wouldn’t spot him as a practitioner.”
“You think he knows you’re hip to him?”
“I doubt it. He’s just reading the paper, pretending to be just another Mission hipster.”
“What does he look like?”
“Quite striking, actually. Medium height, youngish, with a mass of flaming curly red hair.”
“Like yours?”
“No, his hair is dyed.”
“And yours is natural?”
“Something you’ll never find out; that’s for sure. But his isn’t meant to look natural. It’s a fashion statement, bright scarlet, but with heavy black eyebrows.”
“Does not ring a bell at all,” I said. “Maybe Victor’s heard of him, or maybe he’s new in the city. What made you pick up on him?”
“He wasn’t shielding that well-I could hardly have missed him.”
“Maybe he wanted you to notice.”
“Maybe. Anyway, you live close. I thought you might want to drop by and then we could have a talk with him.”
“Give me five minutes,” I said.
“Hold on,” she said. “He’s leaving. Got to go.”
“Wait, wait,” I said quickly. “That might not be the best idea. If he’s letting you notice him, he probably wants you to follow. People have been dismembered, remember? If your idea about a practitioner is right, you don’t want to be confronting him alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but it’s not worth the risk. Use your head. I’ll be down there in a few minutes.”
I got a reluctant agreement out of her, and by the time I got to the café she was drinking another latte, sitting at an outside table.
“I should have followed him,” she said.
“Not worth it. If you’re wrong, it doesn’t get you anywhere. If you’re right, it could be a big mistake.”
“I guess. But I don’t think I’m wrong about this.”
“So why do you think he was following you?”
“Well, if I’m right, and a practitioner is behind this, he’s got to be aware of me. I’ve been asking a lot of questions, poking my nose all over town. Maybe he wants to see what I’m up to, whether I’m a threat to him.”
“Or maybe he was trying to get up the nerve to hit on you.”
“Aren’t you sweet? No, there’s something going on with this guy.”
We tossed a few ideas around but didn’t get anywhere, and eventually Ruby finished up her latte and headed home. I got a cup of coffee and sat there with Lou for a while, watching the Mission denizens stroll by. The demograph ics of the Mission were changing-fewer Hispanics, more yuppies and faux hipsters. And it was a younger crowd these days, most of them younger than I was. Then I realized they were the same age as they’d always been. I was the changing demographic, growing older every day, imperceptibly but inexorably. After ten minutes or so, Lou nudged my knee, in that deliberate fashion he uses when he wants to alert me to something.
I scanned the area, and it didn’t take long to see what he had scoped out. Across the street, staring intently into the front display window of a bookstore, was the redheaded stranger. His back was toward me, and he was using the reflection of the street in the window to keep an eye on me-a trick he’d no doubt picked up from countless bad TV movies. But even though his back was turned, there was no mistaking him. He had a mop of curly red hair, dyed an entirely unnatural red. Not the ideal appearance for trailing someone on the q.t. Which meant that I was supposed to see him. Which meant… what?
Abruptly, he turned away from the window and walked away, moving at a good clip, but not fast enough to keep me from following if I wanted to. The advice I’d given Ruby was perfectly sound. There was no reason to follow him, except curiosity, since I didn’t see a practitioner being the answer to our murders. And if by chance I was wrong, the downside could be considerable. I pushed my chair back, beckoned to Lou, and took off after him.
He ambled casually down Valencia, to Sixteenth, then over to Mission. Without so much as a backward glance, he descended the stairs to the BART station. I always carry a ticket with some money left on it for just such situations, so I inserted my ticket and breezed through the turnstile, not far behind.
Lou scooted under, staying close to my feet. Dogs aren’t allowed on BART, and whenever I take the train I use a small backpack for him to ride in, layered over with a minor concealment spell to make him look like an old sweater on casual inspection.