by Coralie Moss
No one followed me.
I kept going, down the path I had first walked with Tanner, the path that took us past a cluster of Ashmead’s Kernel apple trees in our search for clues about the dead and the missing.
Now, it was my sons, and Cliff and Abi, who were among the missing. Tanner was in France on a rescue mission for the Pearmains and for his wolf. And once again, the family I had married in to was proving themselves to be devious and manipulative and…
Eating and walking while my eyes filled with tears wasn’t going well. I’d left my boots in my car, and my barnacle-cut arches kept landing on sharp-edged rocks. I choked down what I could of the sandwich and put one foot in front of the other.
If my friends could rally around me, I could put up with a little physical discomfort.
Kaz’s silhouette came closer as he walked the path from the older trees.
“Calli,” he said, stopping a good ten feet away.
I waved and held out the plate with the untouched half of my sandwich. “Hungry?”
“Yes, thank you.” His smile lines softened when he looked at me. “You look worried. Care to walk with me to the house and fill me in?”
I probably over-explained all the voices in my head and what had transpired over the past couple of hours, and I was sure I talked too fast. By the time the farmhouse came into view, lunch had been cleared away. The wide steps and faded rocking chairs were covered with resting bodies and farm tools consigned to weapons duty.
Wes interrupted what he was saying to wave at Kaz and me. “Nène and Sil received word from their parents that we should expect them to arrive here in the hour before dusk, which at this time of the year is…” He made a mental calculation. “Eight-forty-five, giving us just under two hours to digest, rest, and recharge. Druids, to the woods. Witches, do what best serves your powers. Fae and hidden folk, same goes for you. I expect us to be alert and ready to move—with weapons and whatever else you deem necessary to be at your best—an hour before the Fae are expected. Any questions?”
“Have you decided where we’re going from here?” asked the imposing Fae I’d begun to regard as their de facto leader.
“To the burial mounds.”
Chapter 23
My gauntlets composed the entirety of my battle dress. Oh, and the cargo pants with dirt ground into the knees and the sleeveless shirt, once pink-and-white-striped, now forever stained. I reached into my front pocket and patted Christoph’s three feathers. In a back pocket I found a hair elastic then grabbed sticky strands of bothersome hair away from my face and pulled it all into a high ponytail.
We had each followed Wes’s instructions to the extent we could. I had chosen to stick close to the farmhouse, lingering in Abigail’s flower gardens where bees and sweet scents lulled me into something resembling a nap.
Now, we walked, and when the burial mounds came into view, my breath caught in my chest. With the angle of the sun growing lower and the cloudless sky overhead, the light hitting the grass-covered mounds set them to glowing a supernatural shade of emerald green.
I veered to the right, down a slope between the mounds and the forest. In this section of the property the trees made a ninety-degree turn, creating a squarish plot. The uneven land was dotted with lichen-splotched rocks and a handful of circles where the soil had been turned in preparation for planting more fruit trees.
“The portal is there,” said Wes, pointing to one of the largest and oldest of the Pearmains’ apples trees, trunk bent and twisting, near a corner of one the rectangular mounds.
At the tree’s base, I could see an area filled in with pebbles.
“And the underland is over there.” He waved toward the distant line of cedar, fir, and Arbutus trees, where the property line ended and the ground went from farmland to foothill. I made out a grape arbor, dense with vines and leaves, perhaps fifty feet in length.
“Calli, gather round.” Wes continued to hold the role of commander. “Hyslop, Peasgood, Néne, and Sil. The four of you position yourselves close to the portal tree. Place your luggage at your feet and be ready to play your roles the moment your parents arrive: you are shocked that your escape has been thwarted.”
Four heads nodded. The Fae sisters primped and preened and made minor adjustments to their boyfriends’ attire. They had gone to some effort to dress as though they really were intent on eloping, adding to the surreal quality of the evening.
“Guards, glamour yourselves as farmhands, as discussed.”
The eight Fae, long-handled rakes and hoes in their hands, nodded and dispersed.
“Calliope, our ultimate goal, once they are here, is to grab your sons. Until the action starts, I think you should stay back toward the tree line, maybe over there.” Wes pointed to his right.
A sharp yip sounded from the path we’d walked. Trotting into view, tail up, was a large wolf with patches of light and dark cinnamon brown fur. He stopped yards from any of us, lifted his nose, and sniffed.
I’d forgotten I had asked Jack for help. My knees went weak with relief.
“Wes!” I yelled, waving my arm. “That’s my friend, Jack. The police officer.”
Wes jogged to the wolf and went to one knee. Jack lowered his head, yipped again when Wes finished, and loped in my direction. He slowed, planted all four paws, and shook his head and shoulders. The movement traveled down the imposing animal’s spine to its tail.
Keeping an eye on the portal tree, I crouched. Jack took a tentative step forward, and I opened my arms. I hadn’t felt Tanner’s fur when he was in his wolf form, except for a brief, reassuring touch, and curiosity won out over propriety. Jack nuzzled the side of my neck and licked my cheek.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulder area and slid my fingers through his coat. The primal sensation of fur on skin allowed me to drop out of my head and into my body. “Thank you for coming. I feel better with you here.”
Jack stayed at my side as I made my way to the wooded area indicated by Wes.
Settling next to me in the clump of salal, the wolf grazed his muzzle along my jaw just as the portal burped out a traveler. Jack gave a low growl, the fur along his spine rising, his hindquarters pressed against my side.
Wavering next to the ancient apple tree was a slightly hunched woman, covered in a ratty blanket. The unexpected traveler tossed a small object on the ground and unwrapped herself. As she let go of the blanket its four corners snapped out. The rectangle floated toward the ground and settled on the uncut grasses beyond the tree’s drip line.
Another elongated patch of light wavered near the trunk, and a second traveler emerged, his broad shoulders draped in a cape.
Maritza Brodeur and Alabastair Nekrosine.
“Peasgood? Hyslop?” she said. “What are you two doing here?” The animated fabric followed Maritza as she minced across the uneven land to where the foursome clustered, circled by their luggage.
Bas opened his hand, fingertips down. Portal stones, that’s what they were dropping.
He pivoted in a circle, the bottom of his cape flaring, and stared into the woods. When the necromancer locked gazes with me, his face registered quizzical at first then understanding. He made a rough shape with his arms before pointing a finger straight at me. Even from afar, I could read what he was mouthing.
Bear.
I had begun to feel Bear’s presence as Jack and I settled in near the salal. The berries were a natural attractant to my ursine protector. Or maybe it was my fear, rising in anticipation of Meribah’s arrival. Bas stayed another few seconds, his distant presence oddly comforting, then joined Maritza. They stood side by side, blocking my view of the much shorter Hyslop, his brother, and their girlfriends.
Bas leaned to the side and spoke to Maritza. She turned on her heel, ran her gaze along the wooded border of the property where our band of Magicals had hidden themselves, and waved. She then hooked her free arm through Bas’s offered elbow, waved the fuzzy rectangle in my direction, and led Bas toward the underl
and.
A necromancer and a witch specializing in rituals of death were removing themselves from the immediate vicinity of the coming confrontation. That was…encouraging. And while Maritza and Bas looked like a couple out for a stroll, their appearance could not have been entirely accidental.
I returned to staring at the old tree, willing the distorted S of its trunk and the umbrella of its branches to send out a handful of Fae. The waiting was hard to manage, even as Maritza’s discarded blanket arrived at the edge of the bushes, hesitated, and fluttered up and over the salal before rustling the bushes behind me.
Bear’s massive presence draped across my back and sides. I shivered and stuck out my arm to pat the air. The blanket grew weighted, taking the shape of a large, furry creature as though a tailor was assembling a cloak on my body as I waited in their shop. I shrugged to accommodate the sensation.
As I did, the moment I had been wanting and dreading arrived with a loud pop. Except the traveler exiting the portal wasn’t Meribah.
It was Doug.
He stepped forward, blinking in the waning light, one hand on the back of Harper’s neck and one hand gripping Thatcher’s upper arm. Harper looked ill, Thatch was unreadable, and Doug was bruised.
“Calliope!” Doug roared my name from a battered throat. Every hair on my body rose, and my scalp prickled.
Harper’s knees gave out, bringing both him and Doug to their knees. Free of his father, Thatch darted behind Doug, wrapped his arms around his brother’s upper torso, and struggled to put distance between the two of them and their father.
I had to press both hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. I went to the ground, panting like the wolf at my side.
My fingers sought the soil, sending an urgent message into the forest, calling on every vine and thorny plant to be ready to heed my call for help should I issue one. As I rose to stand, Jack’s hindquarters trembled with anticipation, Bear straightened with me, and the three of us crashed through the bushes between where we’d hidden and the edge of the field.
“What the hell do you want?” I yelled. Sun-baked blades of dried grass poked at my feet, and I relished how every sensation kept me anchored.
“You left me. You betrayed our vows. You turned our sons against me, their own father.” Doug pounded his knuckles into his chest like he was driving a wedge into a log he wanted to split. The front of his shirt was marked with blood, and the buttons weren’t lined up.
“No.” If I yelled loud enough, I could draw his attention off the boys and redirect his anger. “You don’t get to accuse me when it was you controlling me.”
“We got those tattoos because that is what I was told to do. You were supposed to give us daughters, Calliope. Two girls who could carry the Flechette legacy, my legacy, forward. Two girls who could… who could…” Doug—by now oblivious to Harper and Thatcher—dropped forward, fisted his hands, and beat at the ground.
Thatch dragged Harper sideways, a single hard-won step at a time, putting distance between them and Doug.
I saw nothing physically attaching my ex to my sons. I tramped toward the boys, the big wolf at my side, and wrapped an arm around Harper’s waist. “Let me help you,” I said to Thatcher. “If we can get Harp to the burial mound, Kaz can get you both home through a different portal.”
If Kaz hadn’t found the other portal, he could hide my sons in the mound and make the door disappear. A low growl vibrated from the wolf. “Jack, stay here.” I patted his head. “Don’t let Doug follow us.”
“Calliope.”
I shot a glance over my shoulder. Doug had gotten his feet back under him and spun, arms flailing. Jack was following my request, creeping toward Doug, a low rumble in the beast’s throat.
“Hurry,” I hissed. “We’re almost there.”
“You cannot hide, Calliope. She will find you and she will kill you and she will take our sons.” Doug screamed and fell to his knees again. “And then she’ll kill me.”
Kaz had the door to the mound open and hurried toward us.
“Fucking drama queen,” Thatch muttered. “Not Kaz,” he added. “Dad.”
I nearly choked on a completely inappropriate and totally necessary laugh. Thatcher had a way with knowing exactly when and how to dissipate tension. I ruffled his hair and picked up the pace.
“Mom.” Thatcher let Kaz replace him at Harper’s side and ducked beside me. We were almost to the sod-covered door, and Doug’s histrionics weren’t letting up. you need to know Dad is completely off his rocker. “And he did something to Harper to make his wings grow.”
I’d thought Harper’s lower back felt odd. Intent as I was on getting him to a safe place, I had dismissed the bumps. “What did he do?”
Thatcher shook his head and lifted Harper by the ankles. We made it inside the mound. Kaz indicated where he wanted Harper, and we lowered him to the ground right away. Thatch helped roll Harper onto his side, facing the interior wall. Holding Harp’s other shoulder, he tugged on his brother’s T-shirt. “Kaz, I need your knife. Mom’s got to see this.”
The druid pulled out his knife, flicked it open, and handed it over. Thatcher pulled Harper’s T-shirt away from his brother’s back and sliced the fabric from the neck down.
“Oh, no, baby. No,” I whispered. Raw, gaping cuts on either side of Harper’s spine exposed a translucent network of milky white cartilage, folded tight, exactly like the bones of bird wings. Blood pulsed through veins and arteries.
Kaz pressed fingertips to the edge of the peeled and broken skin and hissed through his teeth. “We have to get him to Christoph right now.”
I grabbed Thatch’s arm. “Did Doug do anything to you?”
“He was only interested in Harper, once the feather follicles started to pop out. I think it was the stress,” he said. I nodded in agreement. “Dad just kept babbling about his mother, how if she could see what Harper could do, she’d accept him.” Thatch shrugged, his gaze unwavering from his brother. “I don’t think he was talking about Grandmother accepting Harper. Dad wanted her to accept him.”
One hand resting lightly on Harper’s hip, I rubbed Thatch’s back with the other. We all had to hang on a little longer. Kaz could get the boys to the house, and I felt sure that with the help of the LaFleur Fae, we could deal with Doug. “Kaz, any luck locating another portal?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a problem?”
“The other portal is located in the underland. And traveling through the underland is never easy.”
“Then what do we do?” I opened the flap on my pants pocket and tugged out the three feathers. “Would these help? Christoph gave them to me as a way to communicate with him.”
“Hold on to them. If Thatcher and I can get Harper to the underland, I can navigate us safely back to the crabapple.”
“Thatch? Are you okay with that plan?”
He nodded. “I feel like a fucking warrior right now.” He turned his hands palms up and spread his fingers wide. “I may not be growing wings or baking magical cakes or making magical necklaces, but I know I have magic in me. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it’s going to look like.”
“Then go with Kaz, protect your brother, and please, stay safe.” I gripped his chin and turned him to face me. “No undue heroics. You did amazing getting Harper to us, and Kaz needs you to stay focused just a little longer.” I stood and brushed off my knees. “I’m going to see if I can end this once and for all with your father. I’ll try not to resort to violence, but if Meribah shows up I make no promises.”
“C’mon,” urged Kaz. “Let’s get Harper over your shoulder, and we’ll go out the opposite side of the mound. Calli.” He gripped my fingers tight. “I will get these two to safety, but it may take a while. Christoph absolutely needs to know what’s happening to Harper. I can think of no way to stop his wings from growing, but your grandfather has far more knowledge about this.”
I hugged Kaz. “Go and with Goddess speed.”
*
* *
From the threshold of the burial mound, I could see Doug—still on his knees, still ranting, and seemingly oblivious to the boys’ absence—and the nearby presence of Hyslop, Peasgood, and the Fae sisters. I shook out my body, let Bear once again settle across my skull and shoulders then strode into the last flashes of sunset just as four rapid-fire pops disgorged Vadim, Primèvere, Adelaide, and Meribah. The matriarch was in the middle of speaking.
“See?” Meribah said, her back to me. “A Flechette always delivers on their promises.” Her voice sliced through the heaviness in the air. Her summer dress, a knee-length silver lamé sheath, followed the hard lines of her torso and thighs. Her chin-length hair was swept behind her ears, her footwear molded over her heels and arches, and the jeweled collar at her neck flashed as she moved.
That was new.
Adelaide wore the sleeveless jumpsuit version of the night’s uniform, also in silver, and sported a similar collar. Unclasped metal rings hung from one hand. More collars. And if I wasn’t mistaken, a coiled leash.
“Mother.” Doug’s face, bright red and streaked with dirt, lifted at the sound Meribah’s voice. He stumbled to stand and lurched toward her. “Mother, look at me.”
Adelaide dropped the leash and collars and flexed her fingers.
Meribah held up a hand in Adelaide’s direction while speaking to Doug. “I will deal with you and your ridiculous behavior once these innocent creatures have been safely removed. Vadim? Primèvere?”
“Silène, Némophilie, whatever are you doing here?” Primèvere picked up the script she and Wes had worked out with her guards. Her voice reverberated with maternal worry, tinged with a shade of disappointment.
“Mama, Papa, we are of age, and you cannot make us marry men we do not love,” said Silene, chin lifted and voice strong. The girls clutched at their chosen sweethearts, their gazes darting between their parents and Meribah and Doug, while Hyslop and Peasgood moved to stand to the girls’ fronts.