Magic Remembered

by Coralie Moss

  Calliope, come here.

  The voice was creepy, and nothing in me wanted to respond to the command.

  “No,” I hissed. “No.”

  Wood splintered and cracked. A different voice, deeper in tone and louder, cursed as another tree, more to the left, rocked like it was having a spontaneous meeting with a sledgehammer and losing. The pain from the tattoo removal had burned like fire; this attack on my woods affected my bones and the timbered infrastructure that gave shape to my house.

  What the—

  Angry. Whatever was out there was becoming angrier, breaking branches, creating a ruckus outside the bordering line of brush and trees. I gripped the railing, sent my awareness into the ground, straight, like a taproot, followed by short bursts of green light—the wards.

  The wards Tanner had placed along the curving circle of woods were keeping something from reaching the house and getting to me. And maybe to my sons.

  I spun around too fast and went from standing at the rail to landing sideways on the swing, right onto my throbbing hip. Taking a deep breath, I heaved myself up and reached for the door as a tall silhouette appeared on the other side.

  “Mom?” asked Harper. “What’re you doing out here, we’re…”

  “Get Tanner,” I urged. “Quick!” I plopped onto the cushioned seat and pressed my palm to the covered wound. “Shh!” I said when they came back, and motioned for them to be quiet. “Listen. Can you hear that?”

  A creature—or a human—moved about in the woods. Tanner paused then repeated the same over-the-railing leap he’d performed the first night he was there. He was followed in quick succession by both Harper and Thatch.

  I stifled my protest, felt along the wall for the switch to the floodlights, and flicked. Intense blue-white light bathed the backyard, prompting whatever was beyond the edge of the grassy area to let out a low growl. The hair on my body lifted at the sound. I clutched the railing and managed to croak out a garbled, “Boys!” before my vocal chords clamped down. None of them turned at my strangled cry.

  Think, Calliope. Protect my house? My land? My sons?

  The floodlight illuminated the backsides of my three defenders, all of them barefoot, in shorts and T-shirts, wielding no weapons other than intellect and bravado.

  Tanner’s shoulders and arms were doing that rippling thing I’d seen earlier in the evening when he’d had Doug by the throat. A trio of adult raccoons, tails fluffed and raised, chittered over to Thatcher and rounded their spines. Winged creatures, at least two, circled overhead, the translucent areas of their wings shimmering. I gripped the rail tighter.

  Owls added strident, back-and-forth calls simultaneous to the arrival of Harper’s bat friends. Wood snapping in my hands let me know I was squeezing the railing a little too hard.

  I know what to do. Startled, I inhaled through my nose and began to chant.

  “Ivy wind; Ivy bind. Ivy wind; Ivy bind…” Fighting like with like, I called to the invasive dog-strangling vine, the one preparing to overtake one section of my garden. I called to the barberry vines, armored with thorns, and to the pea shrub a well-meaning neighbor—in love with everything bearing yellow flowers—had planted, unawares it, too, was an invasive species.

  I called to these non-native plants, asking they redeem their presence by finding and binding whatever stalked my children, my house, and my very body.

  A slithering sounded beyond the reach of the porch light. Leaves fluttered, trees wavered, and the raccoons and bats stayed alert. Tanner’s back continued to ripple, even as he leapt into the woods once a series of strangled screams and cries for help rang through the trees.

  I let my arms hang at my sides and relaxed my legs. First Doug, then the tattoo, and now this, whatever this was.

  “Dad? Uncle Roger?” Harper’s voice registered the shock I knew he must have felt as he and Thatch rushed to help Tanner drag two vine-wrapped bodies from the woods. Even from the deck, I could see it was, indeed, Douglas Flechette and his twin brother Roger.

  I wanted to laugh, a long, maniacal peal that would halt the current weather pattern dropping these unwanted visits from my ex at my door. Instead of laughing, maybe I’d ask Tanner to call in his cohorts and let them deal with the mess. I’d open another beer and watch the circus from the sidelines.

  Before I could do either, swirling lights at the end of the driveway informed me the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had arrived.

  “Not a moment too soon.” Muttering under my breath, I paused at the front door to center myself before sauntering to the end of the drive. “Evening, officers. What can I help you with?”

  “Good evening, Calliope. Sorry to disturb you, but we’ve received two calls about,” Officer Jack scrolled through his cell phone and looked at me while he read, “a disturbance in the woods. Have you heard anything unusual this evening?”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head, slow and relaxed, like I really was considering their question. “No, nothing unusual. The owls have been a bit cantankerous lately and I think the mountain lion that hunts up our way might have gotten a deer, but other than that…no, nothing.”

  Lewis, the other officer, peered beyond the blinding light. It was an honest effort. The communication device he wore strapped to his shoulder crackled with an incoming missive from Gladys Pippin. At least, I assumed it was Gladys. She’d been the nighttime dispatcher, Sundays through Thursdays, for as long as I had lived on the island, and it was clear only death would get her out of her special chair.

  “Got a call about drunk and naked hippies on Bader Beach again,” Gladys said. “Probably a bunch of those WOOFer kids just arrived from Europe or the States.”

  “We’re on our way.” Lewis arched his eyebrows, tilted his head toward their car, and said, “C’mon, Jack, we gotta go.”

  Jack looked at me and smiled his sweet smile. I’d always liked him. He’d made it clear on a number of occasions he liked me too. “G’night, Calliope.”

  “G’night, Jack. And ’night, Lewis. Thanks for checking it out, guys. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” Detection diverted, I turned toward my house, my insides quaking.

  As soon as the officers drove off in their white mini-SUV, I picked up the pace, hurrying around the house to the backyard and coming to a stop in front of a pile of bodies.

  Two bodies, my ex’s and his brother’s. Lucky for everyone involved, these bodies were breathing. Even in the dark shadows cast by the flood light, I could see Doug’s cheeks were puffy and red, with long welts crisscrossing his face and neck, arms and lower legs.

  “Get. This. Off me,” he sputtered.

  “Sorry, Doug. I only know how to cast spells. My tutors haven’t covered undoing spells,” I admitted, more to Tanner than to either of the vine-bound men.

  One of Thatcher’s raccoon buddies was nibbling at the leaves and berries on his way to mounting Roger’s chest. I was delighted to see how uncomfortable the man was under the poking and prodding of the animal’s delicate paws.

  Harper was visibly upset. I stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Harp. Look at me. I want you to go into the house and let me and Tanner handle these two.”

  He shook his head hard, his hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Mom, something’s going on, and I want to know. I’m eighteen. I can handle it.”

  I squeezed his shoulder and turned my attention to Thatcher. More raccoons, likely offspring of the mother he’d first befriended, had appeared and were clamoring for his attention. “Thatch?”

  “What, Mom?”

  “Do you want to stay, too?”

  He dropped his gaze to his father and his uncle. The two men, still bound by the invasive vines I’d called upon, writhed on the ground. The vines had done their job and showed no sign of weakening. If anything, they appeared to be applying steady pressure on their victims. “I think Harp and I deserve to know.”

  “Tanner?” I said.

  He nodded solemnly . “I’ll work on them simu
ltaneously. Do either of you have your phone handy?”

  “I do,” Harper volunteered, slipping it out of his back pocket.

  “I’m about to work a reveal spell. On my say so, take pictures. The images may not show up, but it’s worth a try.”

  My gut clenched, and the raw area under the bandage continued to throb. A moment of truth was coming, and though my bare feet were anchored solidly to my land, toes pushing aside the grass’s stubborn roots in their search for soil, I still felt the rise of bile in my throat.

  Tanner grabbed Doug by the shoulders of his shirt and dragged him next to Roger. I watched, fascinated and mildly terrified, as the vines wrapping my ex and his brother thickened in places and sent out tiny shoots in others, linking nearby sections in an approximation of fortified netting.

  I stepped closer to Harper and slid my arm around his waist. “I’m sorry you have to witness this.”

  “I’ll…we’ll be okay, Mom. Sometimes the truth hurts.”

  “I know, sweetie, I know.”

  Harper stepped away and readied the phone on his camera. Tanner stood to the side of Doug’s midsection and held out his hands, palms facing down. He closed his eyes and moved his lips. Whatever words he chanted were undistinguishable at first, until they became louder and more clearly enunciated. To my ears, it sounded like he was saying the same thing, over and over, in different languages: reveal.

  I ripped my gaze from Tanner’s face and stared at Doug and Roger.

  Their fingers lengthened. Their skin smoothed, all traces of facial hair gone. They were barefoot when captured, and a similar transformation was happening on their feet.

  What caused the most confusion was the change in their faces. It was subtle, remaining true enough to the visages I’d known since they were teenagers, but it was there. They were reversing the aging process and becoming more youthful, even as their ears flattened against their skulls and grew pointed tips at the top.

  “What the…” I whispered.

  The vines I recruited began to snap. Doug and Roger must have felt their bonds loosening, and Tanner appeared so involved with his spell casting he wasn’t prepared for Doug’s foot as it crashed into the side of his knee and sent him stumbling to his back.

  “Tanner!” I rushed to his side.

  Harper was furiously clicking away, and Thatcher stared, dumbfounded, as his father and uncle ripped at the vines and freed their legs.

  Doug roared as he broke away, scattering leaves and bits of shredded stems. He ran toward the road, Roger on his heels. Tanner was moaning on the grass, his leg at an odd angle, and Thatcher had given chase after the others.

  “Harper! Give me the phone and go get your brother. I don’t want him anywhere near—”

  A scream rent the air. “Dad—stop!”

  I turned from Tanner and scrambled to my feet. My child was in pain or danger, and every maternal cell in my body hurtled me forward. I rounded the side of the house, my feet hitting the gravel without feeling the sharp edges of the stones, only to see Doug dragging Thatcher toward the road by one arm.

  Tanner’s knife was in my hands. No time to wonder how it got there. I aimed it at Doug’s arm, pictured him releasing Thatcher, and unleashed an entire marriage’s worth of fury at my ex.

  Doug let go of Thatcher with an ear-piercing scream and pivoted to face me, blood splashing from the knife sticking out of his wrist. His severed hand was still holding Thatcher’s arm as he reached the border of my land.

  I grabbed the grotesque remnant of the man I’d shared a life with for over ten years and flung it in his direction.

  Thatcher dropped to his knees.

  * * *

  “Mom!”

  My eyes fluttered open. I rolled to my side and dry-heaved into the tire track next to my face. Sharp barbs of grass poked into my nose and against my cheek. I tried lifting my head higher; shaking fingers held my hair away from my face until I was finished. Both sons were on their knees, to either side, worry firing the lights in their eyes and the determination in the sets of their jaws.

  “I’m okay,” I croaked, planting my hands and lifting my head. “I’m okay. Help me up.”

  Thatcher’s shoulder was bloody, and he cradled that arm tenderly with his other hand.

  “Did Doug get away?” I asked.

  “They both did,” Harper said, spitting for emphasis, his eyes ablaze. “And we need to have someone look at Thatch’s shoulder. I think Da—Doug almost pulled it out of the socket.”

  I turned to Thatcher. “You in pain?”

  He nodded, made it to his feet. “You better check on Tanner, Mom. He was out cold.”

  “Harper, you come with me. Thatcher, make yourself an ice pack and call Kaz and Wes. Tanner’s cell phone’s probably in one of his pockets or his bag. See if any of them can come and help. Or if they know what we should do.” I brushed off my bruised knees and held out my hand to Harper. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 15

  Harper was able to assist Tanner up the porch steps, into the living room, and onto the couch. Tanner’s face was paler, the brown of his skin a shade I’d never seen on him before. A large, splotchy, red contusion covered the side of the damaged leg. I palpated the area as gently as I could, relieved to see the skin was unbroken and the bones intact.

  I hoped.

  “Did you call Kaz?” he asked, his voice faint. “Wes is still at the other orchards.”

  Thatcher piped up from behind my shoulder. “He’s coming.”

  “Good. Listen for him, please.” I turned to Tanner and cupped his jaw, not liking the way his eyes were moving back and forth.

  “Calli, I don’t know what went wrong. I know that spell inside out and in a dozen languages, and whatever he did…” He sighed, wincing when he shrugged. “Whatever he did packed some punch. I should have known. I should have—”

  I pressed my thumb to his lips, shook my head, and finally got him to focus on my face. The dazed and vulnerable look in his eyes softened a notch. “I was married to him, Tanner, and he fooled me for fifteen years. At least now we have a better idea of what we’re up against. Wait. What are we up against?”

  “Those two were disguised, probably by a glamour spell,” Tanner said. “They’re Fae.”

  I rocked back and sat on my heels. “Fae?”

  Tanner closed his eyes and nodded.

  “Do you think they’re mixed up with what happened at the Pearmains?” I asked. Doug and Roger were the most competitive set of brothers I’d ever met. If they were in cahoots, whatever they were doing had to have some powerful reward at the end. As in money. Or land. Or both.

  “Considering their strength and the fact that the orchardists have all been under strong spells, I think we have to consider that Doug’s connected to the…” Tanner left his thought unfinished as Thatch returned with a bag of crushed ice.

  “Mom,” Thatcher whispered, as I wrapped a dishtowel around the plastic. “We need to see you upstairs.”

  I shoved a throw pillow under Tanner’s injured knee, pressed the ice against his outer leg, and assured him I’d be back. Hustling up the stairs to Harper’s room, I ran down the list of possible injuries and came up empty. Neither Doug nor Roger had touched Harper.

  Thatch opened and closed the door and moved to stand in front of me, his hands on my upper arms and his chest blocking my view of the room. “Mom, you can’t freak out, okay?”

  When did my baby become such a tall, take-charge young man? And when did my baby get so good at calming me down?

  “Thatch, sweetie? After the week I’ve had I don’t think anything could freak me out.”

  “This might.” He held me in place and turned his head.

  Harper’s eyes were wide and wet along the outer edges. He nodded, took hold of his T-shirt in the front, and pivoted.

  “Help me out, Thatch?” he asked, his voice muffled underneath the cotton.

  Thatcher released me and pulled the cloth away from Harper’s back as he li
fted it enough to expose his shoulders.

  “What the hell are those?” My knees jellied, and my back slid down the door until my butt hit the floor.

  Evenly-spaced bumps ran alongside Harper’s spine. The largest were close to the vertebrae, and the vertical parallel lines grew less noticeable as they approached his sides and lower back. I wanted to believe it was a rash, a reaction to the stress of everything happening in our lives, but no rash I’d ever seen rose off the skin in such an organized and purposeful pattern.

  Curiosity got the better of me. Harper flinched when I pressed one of the large bumps in the middle of his back. “Gentle, Mom. They kinda hurt.”

  “Thatcher, get me a light,” I said.

  A switch flicked, and a beam of white light hit Harper’s back. Thatcher said, “Found my camping headlight. You want to wear it, Mom?”

  “What I really need are my reading glasses.” Fingertips tentative on my son’s back, I paused while Thatcher slipped the wide elastic over my head and adjusted the light. Leaning closer, I sucked in a breath. “Sweetheart, these look like feather follicles.”

  “Feathers, Mom? Really? Feathers?”

  “I could be wrong, I—”

  “Fuck, I hope you’re wrong, because…feathers?” Harper pulled the T-shirt all the way off and flung it to the floor. The pain in his eyes went right to my heart. “But Tanner said we weren’t…I’m not— Does this mean I’m a…a bird?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t a fan of lying to one’s children to shield them from life’s challenges, and I wasn’t going to start now. But finding feather follicles on my eighteen-year-old’s back was beyond my growing but still woefully limited body of magical knowledge.

  “We need to show this to Tanner,” I said, opening the bedroom door. A not-unfamiliar male voice had added itself to the conversation filtering out of the living room. “C’mon. Kaz’s here too.”