The three hours we’d spent in the ER had given Campbell just enough time to make it down from her cabin in Soda Springs, up by Donner Summit. She breezed in ten minutes later, gave me an abstracted wave, and immediately went to Victor’s side. His leg was wrapped in bandages from the ER, which had to be removed before she could assess the damage. She looked at the leg and drew in her breath exactly like the ER doc had done.

“Wow,” she said, slipping off the backpack that carried the tools of her trade. “I’m surprised they let you leave.”

“They can’t actually keep you there against your will,” I said. “And even if they could, well, it is Victor after all. Can you fix this?”

She threw me an annoyed glance. Campbell hates it when I referred to healing abilities as “fixing” things. She doesn’t consider herself a practitioner as such, not the way Victor and Eli and I do. She’s a healer more in the Wiccan tradition, although she’d fallen away from that lately. She couldn’t create illusions or aversion shields. She couldn’t animate the inanimate or perform magical forensics, or do any of the things Victor and I could. But what she could do was heal, using plants and a great deal of personal energy, and she was far better at it than I could ever dream of being.

But this time she was too shaken to even comment on how I’d phrased it. She kept shaking her head, looking doubtful. Campbell is confident in her own abilities, and rightfully so. And if she was worried…

“Well?” I said, suddenly a lot more worried than I had been. Maybe Victor really would lose the leg.

“Piece of cake,” she said, almost bitterly, which was very unlike her. “That is, if we’re talking about a five-tiered wedding cake that takes two days to create. I had no idea it was going to be this bad.” Only Victor seemed unaffected.

“Do what you can,” he said.

Campbell pressed her lips tightly together. Then she nodded slightly as if having an internal dialogue with herself, and the worry lines on her face smoothed out.

“I’m going to need some special materials I don’t have with me.”

“I’m guessing it’s not anything that will be available at the local Safeway,” I said.

“No, not exactly. But I do know where to get what I’ll need.” She turned to Victor. “Are you going to be all right alone for a while?”

“Of course,” he said. “Timothy should be home soon, anyway.”

Timothy, somewhat to my surprise, was still hanging in there-in fact, it was taking on all the aspects of a real relationship. After years of clueless twinks, Victor finally had met a real person. Now, Timothy wasn’t exactly in love, as far as I could tell, but he did really like Victor. He refused to take any of his crap, though. Maybe that was the kind of person Victor had been waiting for.

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.”