by Coralie Moss
He shook his head, stripped off his T-shirt, and stretched up, then bent over and grabbed his ankles.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hm. Just stretching. Yoga.”
“Druids do yoga?”
He curled up to standing, pressed his palms together in front of his heart and grinned more widely. “We sure do. Want see my handstand?”
“Could you put on a kilt first? Because then I would be living my dream,” I said, going for a flirty tone.
Tanner smacked his forehead. “Damn. I knew there was something I forgot to pack.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I waved him over and lifted the sheet. “Come keep the bed warm while I go pee.”
“Wait a sec.” He plumped a pillow, tucked it against the headboard, and sat cross-legged, pulling the sheet over his lap. “Do you want me to be visible to everyone? I can put up a deflective ward every time I leave this room.”
I placed my palm against his sternum. “It’s strange to see you without your pouch. And much as I want you all to myself, keeping you hidden will just invite questions about where I am and why I’m spending hours in my bedroom with the door locked.” I stifled a yawn. “A mother is never allowed full-on privacy. The boys are home. Sallie’s girlfriend showed up yesterday. And they’re all leaving tomorrow morning for their first weekend with the mentors.
“Which means we can be social today, and tomorrow we get the house to ourselves, because Wes and Christoph are accompanying the Fearsome Foursome. Oops, Fivesome. Leilani’s going, too.”
Tanner craned his neck and glanced out my window. “I can get dressed, drop from your window, and make a lot of noise at the front door to announce my arrival,” he said.
“Oh, that’ll really fake everyone out.” I couldn’t help the laugh. Or the eyeroll.
“Okay, I’ll casually stroll into the kitchen and you can act surprised.”
“Deal,” I said, starting to crawl over Tanner. He palmed my shoulder, stroked his hand down my spine and over my butt.
“Tomorrow’s the equinox. Do you have plans to meet with your witches, or could I entice you to celebrate with me, druid-style?”
“If druid-style includes copious amounts of nakedness, then yes, I think I would.”
Chapter 5
And with that, Sallie, Harlow, Wes, Christoph, and my sons were gone. The momentary change in air pressure at their departure set misshapen crabapples to jangling at the ends of their stems. Tanner touched the underside of my forearm with his fingertips and traced a line to my wrist.
I stared at the tree’s scruffy bark, patched with greenish-grey lichen. “I hadn’t made any plans for tonight,” I said, “even though it’s the equinox.” I let Tanner take hold of my hand and snug it against his chest. “Could we do a ritual together?”
“I would love to celebrate the equinox with you, Calliope.”
“I’m not sure where to start or how to prepare. I’d like to work outside today. Maybe catch up on some gardening. I haven’t done any in weeks.” The ground around the crabapple trees was supposed to be smoothed flat and well-tended. Portal travelers would drop their stones as they arrived, and pick one before they departed. The multiple portals marked by my new friends had been abandoned—or so Alabastair thought—and the stones had either never been replaced, or were perhaps buried under decades of neglect.
Tanner kissed my knuckles and let go of my hand. Turning, he looked over his right shoulder, to the back side of my house. His gaze moved clockwise over my property: the slice of the driveway visible from here; the uneven border where untended lawn met the woods and undergrowth; the big shed under construction at the far end, all the way around to my garden area to his left.
“Has the layout always been like this?” he asked.
“At one time, I don’t know when, I think there were more outbuildings for animals and at least two herb gardens. I found an old drawing of the property in one of my mother’s books.” I tugged on his sleeve. “Would you like to see the map?”
“Yeah,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling at me. “I get the feeling there’s more to this property than we know.”
I started toward the spot at the back of the house where we had always stashed rakes and such, forgetting that my building crew had moved it all when they poured the cement slab. “I’ll see if the tools are in the shed.”
Sure enough, the shed had been swept. The roughed out walls and low ceiling had been cleared of their collections of ancient spider webs. There was even a new lightbulb in the fixture.
And no giant bat. I gathered a selection of rakes, a hand trowel, a spade, and a shovel.
“Need any help?” Tanner let a laugh escape as he strode over to help me. I shook my head and dropped my armful of wood handles on the ground. He crouched and turned the rakes so the teeth faced down.
“I’ve got gloves in the house,” I said. “Do you want a pair?”
“Sure.” Tanner stood, pulled his hair away from his face and threaded it through an elastic twice. “I’m going to walk around, get a feel for what’s underneath the grass and moss, especially those overgrown areas.” He pointed vaguely to the swath between the bigger shed and the section between my garden and the woods.
I’d moved my office to my bedroom so Christoph could have a room of his own, and had finished re-setting up my work space. I had to fiddle with the surge protector to free up a plug for my printer, let the machine warm up, and try to remember where I kept my stash of paper. Once I had everything in place, I carefully opened the Good Housesweeping volume and unfolded the map.
With a lot of bent elbows, dextrous maneuvering and swearing, I was able to copy the entire map on four separate tries. I taped the sheets together and trimmed the overlap until I had a reasonable facsimile of the original. Sticking a couple of pens in my back pocket, I grabbed the bag of gloves from the closet by the front door, and went out to garden with my druid.
And caught myself teetering on the unfamiliar verge of normal.
Tanner had rolled up his pant legs, shed his T-shirt, and was stomping on the big gardening fork. Stray hairs waved over his face as he gripped the long handle fist over fist and moved it back and forth like he was trying to dislodge a rock.
A hot guy—my hot guy—was helping me with lawn work at the start of a kid-free weekend. It wasn’t even noon and I was ready to pop the lids on a couple bottles of local brew, pull up a lawn chair, and watch him sweat. For me.
“You going to help or just stand there and gawk?” Tanner asked, swiping his hair away with his forearm.
“Both,” I said. I waved the taped together pages at him. “I even got us a treasure map.”
Steel hitting rock clanged as Tanner tapped at whatever had him sweating. “I might have found something.”
I dropped the gloves and spread the map between us. Pointing to the corresponding area, I said, “Whatever is here could be the border of one of these gardens. See this design? I can’t tell if it’s a wall or a pathway.” I repositioned the map so the drawing lined up exactly with where we were in relation to the house.
Tanner picked out an edging tool. “Start poking around with this.”
“Can’t I just use my feet?” I asked, pulling on a pair of heavy canvas gloves.
He squinted at me. “Would you like to?”
“I’d like to get sweaty first.”
“I can help with that.”
“Vertical sweaty, Tanner. Out of doors sweaty.”
“I can help with the vertical sweaty and the out of doors sweaty and whatever other variation of sweaty you’d like, Calliope.”
“Work first,” I said, hefting the edging tool and pretending I would spear him if he stepped any closer. “Naked later.”
Zippers and buttons remained intact. Tanner redid his ponytail and returned to uncovering the broad rock he’d found. I put about eight feet between us and tapped at the ground until the curved metal edge hit another rock. Angling the tool so
I could use it as a scraper, I worked to loosen the matted grass.
I found the work meditative, even the scraping of metal against rock whenever I nudged the edge of my tool under sod and moss. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I straightened, stretched a kink out of my back, and searched for Tanner.
He’d been working away from me, and together we’d uncovered fully half a rough circle, the same one I’d pointed out on the map. Wedging my tool between two rocks, I pinched the fingertips of one sweaty glove, tugged it off, and stuck it atop the tool’s handle. I dropped the other glove on the ground.
“D’you want something to drink?” I asked. He’d removed his shirt and tucked it into the back of his jeans. His tanned, sweaty shoulders presented a mighty distraction, and his waving arm and wide grin told me I missed whatever he said. I stepped into the half circle of lumpy grass stretching between us.
Tanner rested the handle of the garden fork against his outer thigh and swiped his forehead. “I said, got any lemonade?”
I trailed my fingertips across the waistband of his jeans. Damp with sweat, the denim rode low on his hips. I splayed one palm across his belly, thumbing teasing the line of black hairs arrowing downward. “I got lemonade. How much do you want?”
He bent from the waist, rubbed his scruffy cheek against mine. “As much as you can pour.”
I laughed, swatted him away, and stepped over the nearest rock. “I think I better hose you off first.”
Tanner tugged at the back of my T-shirt as a bright pink Volkswagon Bug paused at the end of the driveway, rolled forward, then reversed. A horn tooted.
“What’s Maritza doing here?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I said. “Do you think if we ignore her she’ll go away?”
“Not likely.” Tanner released my shirt. “If she’s here without calling first, might be important.”
I jogged over the yard, up the drive, and called, “Maritza!” She rolled down her window when I passed through the wards.
“Calliope. I’m not one to visit unannounced, but I felt it imperative that we use this equinox to create an essential tool for your magic.” She put the car in park and lowered her black-rimmed sunglasses. Elongated ovals of Prussian blue twinkled from the end of each finger. “I brought everything we need and we should be done in under an hour.”
I was intrigued enough not to hesitate. “The driveway’s right here,” I said, waving her in. “Tanner is here, too.”
“Delightful.” Maritza raised one already perfectly arched eyebrow and permitted a hint of a grin. Readjusting her sunglasses, she said, “Always good to have a druid around should things get out of hand.”
Tires rolling slowly over gravel did not smooth the rut in my chest.
Maritza parked her car and stuck one leg out. She’d traded platform sandals for orange Chucks with blinding white laces. Her skinny jeans and loose blouse were black, as was the oversized hobo bag she dragged across the gear shift into the driver’s seat.
“May I carry that for you?” I asked.
“Please. Your dress is in there.”
“My dress?”
Maritza nodded and walked around her car, straight toward Tanner. He’d put his shirt on and was straightening the fabric across his chest. I didn’t think Maritza was prudish, but I was beginning to understand I didn’t want my guy’s chest on display.
“Druid,” she called, offering her hand. “Has Ni’eve released you from her tutelage?”
Tanner brought her hand to his lips and bowed slightly. “We will soon close this chapter of our relationship,” he said, making his voice carry all the way to where I was struggling with the weight of the witch’s bag. “I was granted a three-day leave and chose to spend it with Calliope.”
“Timing your visit to coincide with the equinox was fortuitous. This is a perfect opportunity for Calliope to create the particles she will need to cast circles.”
I had to heft the bag into my arms and hold it to my chest. “I thought witches used salt for their circles,” I said, drawing closer.
Maritza gave a patient sigh. “Do you recall the circle I cast in the burial mounds?”
My cheeks were already flushed from working outdoors in the sun. “Yes, I do.”
“I collected those particles from plants and flowers growing on the Pearmain’s property. It is a very site-specific way of working, one which honors place over the application of more generic materials.”
My fingers itched to take notes.
“Salt is not used for every magic circle. An excess of salt in the soil acts as a barrier to the cell walls of roots, causing them to eventually die from lack of hydration. Circles made from trees and plants that have absorbed nutrients make superior circles for the work you will do.” She readjusted her glasses, adding, “Reduce, reuse, recycle.”
“Calliope and I were going for a lemonade break when you arrived,” said Tanner. He extended his arms, offering to take the bag. I gave it to him gratefully. “Would you care for a drink before you begin?”
“Why yes, please.”
Tanner lowered the bag to the ground. “I’ll bring our glasses out here, Calli.”
Maritza seemed to forget about Tanner the moment he left. “Allow me to explain the process, Calliope. First, we choose a place. We’ll need a flat, circular area approximately,” she scanned me up and down, “two meters across.”
She then assessed my property, tapping a deep blue nail against her chin and hmming to herself. “You said there were maps in your mother’s books?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Let us have a look. There may already be a sacred circle here.”
“There are, or were, at least two stone pathways, both large circles with smaller paths inside.” I gestured to the slabs of stone at my dirt-covered feet and reached for the dirt-streaked map I had printed out and cobbled together. Tanner and I had uncovered a handful of stones fully. When I squinted, I could imagine where the rest of the rocks were located.
“Calliope, gather what flowers you can. Our color palette is somewhat limited this time of year, but there should be enough in your garden and amongst the wildflowers to start with.” She pointed to a fairly flat, clear area between where we were standing and the bunkhouse at the far end. “I will create the outline and you will scatter everything you gather inside its circumference.”
Simple muslin brushed against my fingertips. When I went to lift the garment from the bag it weight startled me and as I stood, I saw why.
“Be careful not to cut yourself, Calliope. Tanner, perhaps now would be a good time for you to assist?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Take this side,” I said, indicating with my elbow. Both my hands were hooked under the wide straps of the sleeveless dress. Tanner extended his arm and I slid the strap over his hand and wrist. “Give me your other arm too.”
The druid became a dress hanger. The muscles and tendons on his forearms strained as he adjusted to accept the full weight of the dress, allowing me to get closer to the hundreds, maybe thousands, of needles weighting the hem.
Curious, I crouched and tapped the tip of one with my finger. When the needle broke the skin at the barest touch, I quickly shoved my finger in my mouth and hoped Maritza didn’t see the blood.
“How do I get into this? I asked. “The needles are—”
“Intimidating. I know. I attached every single one of them and each tried to draw first blood.” Pride coated Maritza’s voice. “My brother is a master at his work.”
“Malvyn made these?”
“He did.” I was hoping for something less deadly-looking for my first piece of the jeweller—and sorcerer’s—artistry.
“What did you mean by first blood?”
“The one whose blood feeds the first needle becomes the true owner of the dress.” She swept her fingertips across the fringe of metal and sighed. “And I knew this would be yours when I made it, Calliope. May it never
draw more blood than is ever necessary.”
Chapter 6
Oh, the charm of the Magical world. “How do I get into it?”
“Tanner, if you walk over to the circle of flowers and lower the dress directly in the center,” Maritza said, waving him forward, “Calliope will step inside and stay absolutely still as you bring the straps over her arms.”
Sounded simple enough. “Calliope, beforehand you will disrobe completely.”
And there was the catch. I swallowed, the thought of the needles against the more sensitive area of my body not at all my kind of thrill.
We walked to the flower circle as as trio. Tanner stepped inside and waited. I paused to take a breath before undoing the side buttons and buckles on the straps to my overalls. I let them fall to the ground, followed by my T-shirt, then underwear.
I steadied myself with a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. The bottom of the dress pooled on the pile of plant matter, while the top half was ready to receive its wearer. Pointing my toes and exaggerating my movements, I lowered one foot through the opening, then the other, and covered my breasts with my hands.
Tanner drew the fabric up the sides of my thighs and over my hips. “One arm at a time,” he said, his breath warm against the back of my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
I lowered the shoulder he wanted first, then the other, and without further fanfare or bloodletting, I was adorned in the dress of needles. Tanner stepped out of the circle at Maritza’s nod.
“Now, you twirl,” she said, flicking her hand in an arc.
“Twirl?” I asked. I lifted my arms overhead, elbows bent, in an awkward approximation of a ballet dancer.
“Try this.” Tanner’s arms were outstretched but not stiff. He turned one palm to face the ground, bent his other elbow, and began to move his feet. The small steps sent his body into a dance a recognized from a video I had seen of Turkish men, dressed in long pleated skirts, dancing a traditional dervish.
Maritza tapped her chin and turned to me. “Relax your arms and hold them away from your body. Close you eyes, root down through your feet, and let the land speak to you.”