by Coralie Moss
I shook my head. I needed to sleep.
“Do you think we can go to bed now? I haven’t felt a thing since you started telling me that story.” I closed my eyes, sank my awareness deep into my land, and came back knowing the wards we’d cast had cloaked our presence.
Tanner must have performed a similar scan. “I think we can. Would you mind if I showered?”
I shook my head and clambered to my feet. My knees didn’t want to straighten, and a hot shower would be a godsend. “Go ahead. I’ll check all the locks and…”
“I’ll do it with you.” Tanner rested his arm around my shoulders and kept me at his side as we stepped over our circles. Whatever had been here earlier didn’t appear to notice—or care—that we’d left the confines of the protected space. My house was in its nighttime cycle of deep, steady breaths.
Together, we checked the locks on the ground floor doors and windows. I left Tanner at the bottom of the stairs with a feeble goodnight and mumbled instructions for where he could find clean bedding and towels.
Dropping my clothes on the bathroom floor, I gave thanks to the marvel of modern plumbing and scrubbed the blood off my body and out of my hair. I left the bottom half of my bedroom window open a couple of inches and wedged a section of wood in the top half to prevent it from being opened further.
Not that anyone or anything would try to get into my house through the windows. That would be too much for one day. Too, too much. I did, however, lock my bedroom door and wedge a spindle chair under the knob.
* * *
Wednesday morning— after asking Tanner to please clean up the dried blood and stopping to grab breakfast and a coffee on the go—I had my assistant Kerry research the Pearmain property while I downloaded images from the day before off of my cell phone.
“Here’s everything I could find.” Kerry stepped into my office clutching a stack of files to her chest. “It’s not much, but from a cursory look, I’d say the orchard has been in the family at least two hundred years.”
I rotated my office chair and gestured for her to leave everything on my desk.
“Be careful handling the older papers,” she warned. “I noticed the newspaper clippings are crumbling at the edges.”
I stood and brought the stack to the work table set alongside one wall. A cork board was mounted above the chair rail; maps of the island and the region covered most of its surface. The repetitive motion of removing the pins and separating them by color into little boxes helped me begin sorting the past twenty-four hours.
Pull. I’m not pregnant.
Drop. Hallelujah.
Pull. If I wanted access to my magical potential, I had a lot of catching up to do. And I had to accept guidance. Drop.
My sons had nascent abilities, ones that needed magical mentoring, as it were, pull, pull, and look who showed up.
Drop.
Scratching the back of my head, I shook off my body’s suggestion about what other kinds of magical mentoring Tanner might offer me. Turns out there was a complicated man under the Provincial agent’s orderly exterior. And the man had some heavy baggage. Heavy, old baggage.
I switched tasks to stabbing at the cork board, pushing a red-flagged pin into every apple-grower’s location. There wasn’t an obvious pattern in their placement, but I didn’t need the obvious right now. I just needed information. “Kerry? Can you get me a breakdown of the varieties of apples grown on the island?”
“You trying to drive me and the growers nuts?”
“No.” I dropped one of the pins and crouched to pick it up. The stiff fabric of my jeans pinched and poked at my belly roll, further irritating my old tattoo. “But I know how obsessed most of them are about their apples. I’m grasping at straws a bit here, but see if they’ll tell you which varieties they grow the most.”
“You got it.”
“Oh, and ask if they have any rare or endangered trees. And get a list of their year-round workers and seasonal workers.”
“How many years back do you want me to go? Three, five?”
“Three should be fine.”
My phone buzzed with an incoming text message from Tanner. “May I use your office?”
I glanced at my wall, prepped and ready for the Pearmain investigation with its anonymous complaints, severed heads, underground tunnels, enigmatic druid, rogue witch, and who knew what else. Sure, Tanner could share my office. Why not? We were already unofficially working together. Heck, just hours ago, we were bonding over blood wards and true confessions.
“Okay,” I texted. “When?”
“How about today? Now?”
I chuckled. “How much money you got?”
No silly emoji, only, “Have you called Rose?”
Nosy man. Of course I hadn’t called Rose.
“Call her. See you soon.”
I puffed out my cheeks. I hated to be hurried along by anybody, especially when they were right. If my training was time sensitive, of course it would be better to speak with the witches, find out what it was I was supposed to do, and do it. As long as it didn’t involve travel or elaborate rituals and dress codes, I was open to whatever was required.
After texting with Tanner, I closed the door to my office and called Rose.
And Rose gave me an earful.
“Well, Calliope,” she began, “since we have no idea when your next period is coming, I’m going to put you on daily doses of tinctures of blue and black cohosh and see if that will jump start your cycle. In the meantime, pack a bag—I’ll put together a list of what you need—and be prepared to meet me on the west side of Vancouver Island. I have to speak with the rest of the coastal covens, but I think we’ll reserve the sacred grove for the coming full moon and get this ball rolling.”
“Bossy,” I muttered, hanging up.
Kerry knocked before poking her head into my office. “There are three men out here,” she whispered, making a funny face. “And they’re asking for you.”
“Does one of them look kind of grouchy?”
She nodded.
“And does one of them have bright red hair?”
She nodded again and giggled. “Friends of yours?”
I beckoned her in and shut the door. “The tall one is Tanner Marechal. He’s with the Ministry of Forests, Lands and Natural Resources. He’s going to help with the Pearmain investigation, and since his agency doesn’t have an office on the island, I said they could work here.”
“So…I’m working for them too?”
I stared at the closed door, one hand fisted at my hip.
My phone buzzed with another text. “What’s going on in there?”
I showed Tanner’s message to Kerry. “Let me know if they become high maintenance. You don’t fetch coffee, you don’t pick up lunch orders, and if I’m not here to answer questions, your word is law.”
She looked relieved.
“But,” I continued, “you know how to find everything in the office and who to call and cajole when we need stuff, so if you do any of that for them, I’ll see their agency pitches in.”
“Deal. Any idea whether any member of the Terrific Trio is single?”
“Tanner is, that much I know.” And I have first dibs, but honestly, don’t go there. He’s too complicated. “No idea about the other two. I’ll let you sharpen your investigative abilities on answering that question.”
Kerry winked, tightened the belt of her empire-waist summer dress, and opened the door. “Ms. Jones will see you now.”
Adding three men to my already snug office space would not work well long term, but for the day’s debrief, we’d make do. If they needed more space, they could…I glanced around the room. There was no more space.
“Kaz, can you ask Kerry where the extra folding chairs are stored and bring in two?” I asked.
He nodded and left the door open behind him.
Tanner closed it and turned to me. “Is Kerry trustworthy?”
“Mostly. But I’d much rather details like frozen hea
ds and missing bodies stay between just us for now.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Kerry’s an asset,” I added. “She knows practically everyone on the island, and if she doesn’t, someone in her family does. There are a lot of ways she can help, so don’t hesitate to ask. Conversely, given that she and the rest of the Pippins are related to half the island, keeping things tight should be SOP.”
Kaz walked in with the chairs and unfolded them across from the wall with the maps. He and Wes were settling in when Kerry knocked while opening the door.
“Calli?” she said. “There’s someone here with a delivery for you, says she has to give it to you in person?”
“Tell her I’ll—”
“Calliope Jo-ones?” A very round, sunny woman with a sing-song voice sidled Kerry out of the way. “I am Belle. Belle de Boskoop. Rose sent me.”
Belle floated through the doorway, dressed like a bouquet of wild yellow cowslips. She lifted a crisp paper bag by its handles and made a show of offering it to me just as her attention snapped to Kaz—and his, to her.
He plucked the bag from the tips of her fingers, handed it to me, and offered Belle his hand. “Kazimir Wickson. At your service.”
Matching splotches of blush graced their cheeks when he straightened from his slight bow, and I remembered where I’d seen and heard her name before. Belle was one of the three witches recommended by Rowan. “I’m Calliope. And these other two are Wessel Foxwhelp and Tanner Marechal.” I commandeered the paper bag, looped an arm through Belle’s, and turned to the men. “I’ll be right back.”
I steered us past Kerry’s desk, out the door, down the stairs, and into the alleyway beside the small office building. A trio of males stared out my office window.
I turned our backs to the snoops. “Dr. Renard recommended I speak to you about becoming more of a witch.”
“Rowan? I love that girl and bless her, always looking out for us, but anyhoo, I’m here because Rose sent me. I am a Plant witch, and I specialize in tinctures and extracts and such and she said you needed help moving things along. You’ll find exactly what you need in the bag, along with instructions and my contact information if you have any questions or concerns or if you just need to talk.”
“Belle, thank you. So much. I’ll take a look at everything later this evening.”
“Rose wants you to start taking the herbs tonight. She filled me in on your case, and I want to assure you I’ve had success with worse.”
Curiosity got the better of me. I unrolled the top of the bag and peered in. Three stoppered bottles and a roll of paperwork. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing right now. We’ll settle up after the ceremony.”
“I’m not going to have to take out a loan, am I?”
Belle fluttered her finger. “Heavens no, but if you need reassurance, the prices are on my website right there in black and white. Or maybe it’s pink and white, I’m not sure, but—”
I stuck out my hand. “Thanks again, Belle. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Handshake, pancake, give me a hug!” She enfolded me in a floral-scented embrace before holding me at arm’s length and beaming. “Put in a good word with that adorable Mr. Wickson, would you please? Or better yet, direct him to my workshop. I have the perfect potion for what ails him.”
“Is he sick?”
“No, but he’s going to feel very out of sorts if he doesn’t come in for a sample of what Ms. Belle has to offer.” She pursed her plumped, rose-pink lips into a moue and blew a deliberate kiss in the direction of the one man still standing at the window.
Chapter 7
I re-entered my office and stashed the bag of drops. “Did you catch Belle’s message?”
Kaz’s blush was far redder than I would have guessed, given that Wes had the red hair. “I did. I assume you have her contact information?”
“I do, with clear instructions to pass it on to you.”
“Well, then, I’ll take that number, please,” he said, holding out an open palm.
Tanner cleared his throat. “May I remind you all we have severed heads to discuss?”
“And I have a witch to woo.” Kaz feigned indignation and tried to make himself as tall as Tanner.
“Point taken.” Tanner laughed, lifting both palms.
This lighter-hearted version of the government agent was good to see after the weightiness of what happened earlier, but what I really wanted was everyone on the same track.
“Who here has connections in the Fae community?” I asked.
Tanner snapped to attention. “When did we conclude the heads belong to the Fae?”
“I believe the pointed ears and elongated noses are consistent with garden trolls, what my aunt used to call the hidden folk.” I had consulted a compendium of magical creatures and seen the resemblance between the frozen faces and those carved into the picture frames. I saw no reason to add the compendium was my childhood coloring book and the consultation occurred while my eyelids were struggling to open.
“I didn’t even know we had a troll community,” Kaz muttered in Tanner’s direction. “I hope those heads weren’t the end of it.”
“The end of dead trolls?”
“Well, yes. Not the end of garden trolls as a species. Those tunnels were rather small. I suppose it does make sense they would be the smaller versions.”
Time to take charge. I turned my back to the map and raised my voice. “Guys. Is there a network of magical beings we can tap into? A registry of sorts, maybe online?” Brilliance flashed on the inside of my forehead. “What about using a dating app to try and connect?”
The men stared.
“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know about ShiftR. Or MagicalMates?”
All three shook their heads, the looks on their faces varying degrees of the same expression: mild shock.
“Trolling for trolls.” Wes elbowed Kaz, seemingly pleased with his quick wit.
I gave Tanner a silent plea for mercy. What was it with his cohorts?
He stood and took over. “There is a directory. I’ll share it with you, but it’s obviously not up to date, as Calliope’s name isn’t listed. I’ll also arrange to have Kaz or Wes revisit the other two sites where the catatonia spell was active. Calliope, I’ll stay on the island with you. There’s the giant bat to have another look at and…”
Wes did a double take. “Wait, did you say giant bat?” He went from slouching to sitting straight. “When can we see it?”
I had to rein in this circus of tangents.
“Why don’t we all have dinner at my house tonight?” I directed my question at the ringleader. I noticed he hadn’t gotten to the part where he shared that a spurned lover was stalking him.
“Dinner’s a good idea,” Tanner said. “Kaz and Wes are leaders in the mentorship programs too. And I’m not a bad sous chef, so you can put me to work.”
“Did you just make the assumption I’m cooking for all of you?”
Guilty.
“I have a grill,” I informed them. “Stop at one of the grocery stores or farm stands. Pick up whatever you feel like cooking and drinking. Be at my house around six-thirty, seven o’clock.”
Kaz’s hand went up slowly. “Calli, lass. Would you happen to have an extra bed?”
Three-ring circus. “Are all of you in need of housing?”
“It’s the middle of the summer and you know how hard it is to find a place to stay,” Kaz said. “When we came over to help Tanner, we weren’t planning to be here more than one night, let alone two. Or three.”
“My sons have camping equipment. I can bribe them into sleeping in the living room or under a tarp in the yard or… We’ll figure it out.” I turned and faced the map. The afternoon was marching on, and this band of merry men needed to focus. “Tanner, could you please put pins in the locations of the other orchards? Use the red pins. The ones with little flags.”
* * *
I left Tanner and company at my office. My
car choked at the foot of my driveway. I stuck my head out the window and yelled, “Honey, I’m home,” even though my sons were at work and there were no other vehicles in sight.
An invisible barrier dropped, the front wheels bit into the gravel, and I was delivered to the base of the porch steps. Stepping out, I toed off my shoes, sniffed the air, and pivoted to assess what I could see of my property. Nothing seemed amiss above ground, and when I peeked through the shed window, I found the bat—every bit as oversized and otherworldly as I remembered—hanging upside down, wings enfolding its body and face.
My garden gave a gentle tug on our bond. I tickled back. Instead of prepping for a houseful of hungry males, I threw on a summer dress and laid claim to my favorite chair, with its chipped and faded turquoise paint. My toes quickly found their way under matted stems of low-growing chamomile, the connection to soil easing my exhaustion. Canes laden with raspberries and blackberries arched over my shoulder, tumbling fruit into my upturned palm. I popped the berries one by one into my mouth, tugged my dress high enough to expose my legs, and let the sun on my skin and the juice on my tongue make for a delicious midday treat.
This garden had nurtured me as a child. After I moved back into the house, fixed the fence, shored up the raised beds, and amended the soil, we picked up where we’d left off.
The plants had things to say about the creatures moving through the soil at their roots, starting with their daily vermiculture report. They added vague whispers of larger creatures on their way to my island, creatures that carved through rock, flew through the air, and swam the waters. But given my plants’ loose relationship with the concept of time, I didn’t know if the creatures they spoke of had been here for decades or were more recent arrivals.
I fought the urge to stand and run. Moments from yesterday flashed across my eyelids, from the frozen heads to the oily presence at the marina to the symbols drawn in blood over my walls and floor. I pulled my plants closer, asked for more stories, and returned to floating along with the rootlets below and the bees above until the arrival of a car and distant voices roused me from my late-afternoon stupor.