He toweled himself off, picked his damp clothes off the bathroom floor, unpacked his things, got dressed and groomed to his own satisfaction, and only then checked on the amulet's whereabouts. He wasn't very surprised when he didn't find it on the bed; he knew his luck. A cursory survey of the bedroom floor likewise produced nothing.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called, trying to put a little interest into his voice. He was too emotionally exhausted by his dreams to work up any enthusiasm for locating the sarcastic bit of jewelry in a hurry.

"Come on, Ammi, give me a hint," he said. "I've decided that I'm going to hunt up Fiorella tonight after all. I know it's almost ten o'clock, but that's not going to be too late to phone a witch-queen. If she says it's okay to come see her, I'm going. I can go with you or without you, your choice. So how about it? Are you in or are you going to sulk and miss all the fun?"

Silence answered him.

"Fine. Be that way. I don't have time for this. Catch you later." He walked out of the bedroom without further ceremony.

Once out on the nighted streets of Salem, he took out his cell phone and called Fiorella's home number. It rang for a long time without answer or answering machine. He was about to give up and go back inside to locate Ammi (and see if the little amulet had an alternate contact number for the witch-queen) when there was a click and a woman's voice, very low and sweet, saying: "Ye Cat and Cauldron, why not drop by for a spell? We now feature special evening hours the better to serve all your arcane needs. This is Fiorella speaking; may I help you?"

Dov introduced himself and secured a very warm invitation to come to the witch- queen's book shop as soon as possible. ("How very fortunate you are, Mr. Godz, that I have a call-forwarding spell put on my home phone. Just as good as a pager and much less annoying.") He found a parking spot right in front of Ye Cat and Cauldron, but didn't attribute it to either luck or magic. After all, the hour was fairly late, tourist season was not yet in full swing, and most of the good folk of Salem were home waiting for Letterman to come on.

A light burned inside the bookshop; several, in fact. Actually, the place was lit up like Christmas at Macy's and the crowds within were almost as thick. As soon as Dov opened the door and stepped inside, he found himself up to his eyebrows in women. They came in as many shapes and colors as that candy gel used to make chewy fish, worms, teddy bears, sharks, spiders, and the whole Noah's ark of tooth-rotting fauna. Tall, short, fat, thin, meek, bold, laughing, grim, their skin, eyes, and hair of every color found in nature or made possible through chemistry, cosmetics, and contact lenses, they surged and swarmed around the bookshelves, wicker shopping baskets on their arms piled high with purchases.

Dov felt his heart begin to beat faster with fear. It wasn't that he was afraid of being trampled or shoved. He certainly wasn't scared of women per se. What had him spooked was the way that every single one of the ladies present acted as if he weren't there. Their glances either bounced off him entirely or went right through him, seeing nothing where he stood. The phenomenon wasn't caused by active hostility on their part or even common rudeness. The room pulsed with magical power, more than Dov had ever felt centered in one spot before. They were the source of the power and its victims, for it was the power itself that possessed them and made them unable to recognize that Dov existed.

It was very disconcerting. He didn't know what to do. He thought about calling out Fiorella's name, but stopped short of doing it. What if the power caged within this room had also rendered him inaudible? What if it were only a matter of time before he dissolved clear out of reality and ended up ... where?

"Mr. Godz?" A shapely green-eyed blonde materialized at Dov's side and took him by the hand. "I'm Fiorella; so pleased to meet you."

He tried to smile at her, but he was still fast in the thrall of unreasoning fear. She gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh dear," she said. "You poor darling, have we really got the power turned on that high? I'm so sorry. Come with me; it's better in the storeroom."

Dov allowed himself to be led like a little child on a shopping expedition with Mommy. "You mustn't feel bad," she told him. "This happens a lot on nights when we offer extended hours for shopping."

"Is it a ... woman's magic thing?" Dov asked, his voice hoarse and fragile.

Fiorella showed her dimples. "Perhaps it is. Most of my female customers spend their worldly days being treated a little better than furniture. The people around them at home or at work or in the social whirl never seem to see them unless they absolutely must. Sometimes it's because they aren't pretty enough, or young enough, or wearing the right clothes, or holding down the right sort of job. They're the mothers with small children who get shoved aside by the people who think anything outside of an office isn't real work. They're the women who accomplish great things but who only turn visible when someone wants to ask them when they're going to get married and have kids. They're the ladies who wear size 18 dresses who can't get a salesclerk to notice that they want to buy the lipstick that the size 2 model is wearing. They were once the eleven-year-old girls who wanted to play Spin-the-Particle-Accelerator instead of Spin-the-Bottle. They make most men and some women nervous. And do you know what else? They don't like being invisible. That's why they come here, seeking magic, trying to learn how to be seen again. Meanwhile, as long as there are enough of them banded together in one place, they automatically invoke the power to treat others the way they've been treated themselves. They can't help it."

While she spoke, Fiorella simultaneously conducted Dov through the thick of the females thronging her store, behind the main display counter, and out via a bead-hung doorway. The farther they went from the open-to-the-public part of Ye Cat and Cauldron, the better he felt, so he made no objection when she took him straight through the little parlor where she'd entertained Peez. A door at the far end of the Lilith Lair opened onto a narrow flight of stone steps that went down into the earth. A gust of warm air from below blew over his face and dried the beads of nervous sweat from his brow as he and Fiorella descended, a breeze that smelled of Oriental spices.

The steps ended in a room that was empty except for a wide green velvet divan, a marble-topped table bearing a crystal decanter and two silver goblets, and a pair of wooden chairs so straight-backed and uncomfortable-looking that they would have pleased even the critical eye of a Puritan elder. The walls were covered with trompe l'oeil paper printed to resemble the shelves of a well-stocked library.

"I thought you said you were taking me to a storeroom," Dov said, looking around uncertainly.

"This is it." Fiorella reached out and tapped the spine of the book closest to her. Its outline shimmered and an actual book popped out of the wall like toast from a toaster. The witch-queen passed it to Dov so that he could examine its solidity. The blank spot its removal had left in the wallpaper was already refilled by a fresh volume. "A little magic prevents a lot of storage problems, which can be the making or breaking of a small book business," she explained. "Plus it cuts down on the need for reserves against returns."

"Fascinating." Dov riffled through the pages, then handed the book to her again. She put it back in its original site. The replacement volume very agreeably sank into the wall to accommodate its twin's return.

"I was so glad to hear from you tonight," Fiorella said, waving him into one of the wooden chairs. "I've been looking forward to our meeting ever since your sister stopped by."