by Coralie Moss
The glasses of hoppy ale and honey mead were empty. The napkins where the cheese and preserves had been laid out were stained plum purple and raspberry and littered with white crumbs, the offerings similarly gone, consumed.
I didn’t think the dead could eat. I was wrong.
“If Peasgood and Hyslop would please stand and join our circle,” Maritza said, the command in her voice fully present but with the undertone of compassion reserved for the mourning. The two men shuffled into the space we made for them. “Everyone, join hands and repeat after me.
“On this day,” she intoned. She paused after speaking and signaled we should repeat as one with a dip of her head.
“On this day,” we said, our voices ragged and not yet connected.
“On this day,” Maritza said again, this time with a clearer instruction in her voice for us to get our act together and shine. Or else. “We give thanks to those who rose from the dead.”
Taking a breath together, chests lifting and opening before we spoke, we answered her, “On this day, we give thanks to those who rose from the dead.”
“On this day,” she continued, “we honor the lives of Bellflower and Sweetbough, hidden folk of le clan des Vergers.”
I stumbled over the French, but the combined voices of the witches and druids rose strong, smoothing my rough spot and completing Maritza’s invocation.
Peasgood cleared his throat. “On this day,” he began, glancing at Maritza for permission to speak.
She dipped her chin. “Say what you need.”
“On this day, we vow to avenge their deaths.” Peasgood and Hyslop spoke together, emotion lacing through the words, drawing consonants and vowels tight within their throats. “On this day, we reaffirm our vows to keep safe the orchards in our trust.”
“There is a song my cousins sang when they were children, and I would like to sing it here, for them.” Peasgood glanced at us, perhaps shy about the offering. “It’s very easy to learn.”
He cleared his throat and bounced a bit, finally singing softly once, then again, a smile lighting his eyes and apple-red rising in his cheeks.
Pomme de reinette et pomme d’api
Tapis, tapis rouge
Pomme de reinette et pomme d’api
Tapis, tapis gris
By the fourth round, we were clapping hands and bouncing along. At a shared yet wordless signal, we stopped on a sustained “gris,” our fluttering hands rising in unison toward the earthen ceiling like so many little birds or flower petals caught up on a windy day.
The notes had nothing to echo against. Silence filled the space.
“Thank you,” Peasgood whispered. “Hyslop and I had hoped we could send Bellflower and Sweetbough off with a song.”
* * *
Once she released the dead, Maritza directed the three witches, me included, in a post-conjuring clean up. She charged Tanner, River, and the four other men with seeing the bodies were re-interred. Before removing them from the circle, they wrapped the reunited pieces of Sweetbough and Bellflower with the shroud made from the pieces of cloth that had cloaked Maritza’s true form when she first walked up to the farmhouse.
Every time we witches left the circle, we used the North door, and every time we re-entered, we stepped through the East. Maritza’s final act was to sweep her arms in a widdershins circle, over and over, until she had gathered her magic-charged particles. Once they reformed into the animated cone, she guided the cone into a pouch pulled from her bottomless purse and tugged the cords tight.
We exited the burial mound, with Kazimir stepping out last. He drew the sod-covered door toward him using magical means, pinched a handful of herbs from the pouch at his waist, and sprinkled the flakes at the threshold. Moving from the lower right up and over and ending at the lower left, he erased all signs of the door.
“What do we do now?” I asked, exhaustion flooding my legs. I tried to grab some energy from the ground, but we were still within the confines of the druids’ magical dome and my quick search again came up empty.
“I must return to my brother’s home,” said Maritza. “There is much to do.” She walked away, words meant for me floating over her shoulder. “I shall see you soon, Calliope Jones. In the meantime, locate your grimoire.” She lifted a bare arm and disappeared.
“How did she do that?” I asked.
“That’s the border between the orchard and where the magic roots into the ground to hold this place hidden,” said Kaz. “Join hands and follow me.”
We did. The same sensation of entering a different biosphere, a less temperate zone, passed across my skin. We were met by a sky littered with stars and cell phones trilling and beeping with messages. Peasgood and Hyslop were offered the cart. They declined, choosing instead to lead the return to the farmhouse.
I hung back to retie my boots. We’d raised the dead. The dead had presented us with testimony that pointed toward one man and three women, and the only candidates in my mind were Josiah, Garnet, Adelaide, and Meribah. Bellflower and Sweetbough hadn’t given us a last name, but I had been married to a Flechette and I knew flechettes were small, arrow-like darts. I had to scrub my face to erase the image of the Fae coming at the hidden folk, their glamour dropped and their nails and fingers extended into the deadly blades they had drawn at my house.
I raised my forearm to my nose and sniffed. My skin held traces of the ocean. I tested a patch with my tongue. Salt. Maybe my sweat was saltier than most. Or maybe the in-between was a place I could access at will. I smoothed the fine hairs on my arm. More pressing matters required my attention first.
“Tanner, River, Rose,” I said. “Everybody. What are we going to do about finding Abi and Cliff?” The faces turned toward me revealed I wasn’t the only one wavering at the edge of being too tired to move.
“Let’s go back to the farmhouse,” said River. “If by some extraordinary chance Abigail and Clifford have been returned, we celebrate. If not, we check in with Christoph and James and the others. We eat. We make a plan. Those who need sleep can sleep. And we keep going until we have an answer.”
The windows running along the backside of the farmhouse were dark. As the Pearmains’ grandsons approached, lights came on at the corners of the overhanging roof. The rocking chairs were empty.
We trudged up the porch steps in silence, the first person inside the house flicked the switch to the kitchen, and the rest of us fanned out to turn on lights in every room, on both floors. We broke into teams of two without discussion to look under beds, rummage through the root cellar, and check the attic. When we reconvened in the kitchen, emptyhanded and lacking clues, Kaz and Belle fired up flashlights and volunteered to check the outbuildings. The others elected to stay in the house and fix food while Tanner and I went out the front door to check the cars and the driveway.
Maritza’s bright pink Volkswagen was gone.
Ambient light from the nighttime sky created navy blue shadows. I loved the hours after dusk and walked through the dark without fear. This night, a crawling sensation kept the fine hairs on the back of my arms and neck alert.
Tanner’s silhouette glowed in the light emanating from deep inside the house. He lifted his gaze skyward, throat and shoulders outlined in soft yellow, the back of his head and body limned with chalky blue-black. He searched the sky then the darkened woods to either side of the rutted driveway and cleared his throat.
“When I went after Jessamyne last night, I thought I would find her here—or nearby—and there would be an exchange, that she would entrust me with Cliff and Abi, or leave me with a guarantee they were safe.” He shifted, searched his bared forearms, with their uniform patches of reddened skin, and flexed his fingers. Long, loose hair and shadows masked his facial features. “When I ended up at the tree and felt the surge of her power…” Tanner stopped, touched his chest. “Why didn’t I say no?”
I made no comment.
He reached for my jaw. “I’m the last thing you need in your life right now, Calli
.”
I cleared my throat. Stuck my hands in my pockets to keep me from touching him. “Didn’t we have this discussion a couple hours ago? On the ground beside my house?”
“Can we talk a little bit more?” he asked, taking another step closer.
“You’re not the only one with baggage,” I said. “The day I met you, I had come here straight from Rowan’s clinic. I went to see her because I was convinced I was pregnant. I’d had sex with a shifter, and the condom broke and my period was very late. And I’m kind of fuzzy on the timing, but a day or two later, a spell my ex-husband had tattooed on my body almost burned a hole in my belly. I have teenagers, Tanner, and a job that means a lot to me. I just found out I have a grandfather I don’t remember ever meeting and that my father wasn’t the most loyal husband.”
My body had gravitated closer to Tanner’s as I spoke, until the fronts of our chests were touching and my fingers were looped through the waistband of his jeans.
“But you know what?” I continued. “I like how I feel when I’m around you. You wake me up to a part of me I want to know more about. And without the interference of that tattoo—which you removed—I’m feeling my magic in ways I haven’t felt since I was six years old.”
“Are you saying my crazy ex cancels out your crazy ex?”
“Totally,” I said, balancing on the balls my toes. I couldn’t see his face very well, other than the outline of the lips coming to claim mine.
The kiss I wasn’t ready for earlier blossomed into an electrical current, running its thrum and hiss between his torso and mine. I pressed closer, ready to own that Tanner’s response to me was something I deserved. And as I tilted my head, he slid his fingers through my tangled hair and held me tight.
His other hand grabbed the side of my butt and brought me against an alive and insistent part of his anatomy. I wrapped my leg around the back of his thigh, rolled my tongue over my top and bottom lips, and went for his mouth.
Tanner let go of my ass. With both hands now cupping my head, he danced us farther from the Pearmains’ front porch, deeper into the shadows close to the gate. My feet stumbled over the uneven ground even as my lips and tongue kept contact with his. When did kissing become such a frenzied thing? And wasn’t I supposed to be searching for Abi and Cliff?
Tanner’s back landed against the side of a truck with a thump. My eyes flew open. The laugh burbling up from my chest stopped short, and I opened my eyes.
This was his truck.
My hands were on the zipper of his pants, the top button undone. Tanner’s mouth followed mine as I broke away, leaned back, and pressed a finger to his lips.
“Tanner.” Guilt surged through me. Guilt and fear. Here I was, getting lost in Tanner’s kisses when I should be finding my friends. “Your truck is here,” I whispered, “and it wasn’t here ten minutes ago.”
He wrapped his arms around my back and held me close, his mouth near my ear. “Can you sense her presence?”
“I’m wearing my boots. But she hasn’t spoken to me, no.” I closed my eyes to the dark and listened. Tanner’s heartbeat quickened. His breathing was ragged, in and out through his nose. I caught the faint but familiar scent of mint. “Do you think she’s here? Is she looking for you or for the—”
Tanner pushed me away and clamped his hand over my mouth.
“Shh, Calliope. Don’t say it. Don’t think it.”
I expected his eyes to go all flickering gold on me. If they did, I didn’t see. His hand stayed on my face as he pivoted his body and tucked me under his arm. He again brought his lips to my ear.
“Take off your boots,” he whispered. “Now.”
With a shuffle, he released me, slipped out of his flip-flops, and bent to help get the boots off my sweaty feet. My toes reached for the ground and spread.
He. Is. Mine.
“Shit. She’s here.”
Before, the Apple Witch had broadcast her presence by sending her voice into my head. This time, she went for a grander entrance, stepping out from behind the curtain of night like a Vegas magician’s assistant.
Jessamyne in human form was as stunning as I had imagined. The waves of hair falling to her waist were the color of apple wood, the palest soft brown. Her wrap dress showed off voluptuous breasts and shapely legs. Gold bangles circled each wrist, clinking as she moved, and the air was redolent with apples, brown sugar, and cinnamon.
I had to take a deep breath. I was terrified of her deviant mind, yet I was staring at her breasts because she had one hand resting on her stomach area and the other just under her navel. Every gesture was clearly meant to announce one thing and one thing only.
The bitch was belly-cupping, a gesture familiar to every pregnant woman on the planet.
She grinned at Tanner, came to a stop, and let her hands linger before she pulled her hair away from the side of her face and twisted it into a loose knot at her nape. Hands on her hips, she dropped all pretense of a blushing, newly impregnated nymph and got to the point.
“Something tells me you two know one another.”
I ignored the comment. I wasn’t going to let her bait me into doing something stupid. Kissing Tanner wasn’t supposed to make me feel stupid, but right now? I had to shake off the lingering sensations and get my head into whatever game the Apple Witch was playing. “Where have you taken Abigail and Clifford?”
“Abigail might be dead. And I suspect Clifford will not last much longer.” Jessamyne took another step toward Tanner and paused. The beguiling scent of baked apples advanced with her. “I wanted to bring them to Mother’s healers, but…” She stopped speaking.
“Where are they now?” I asked again, clenching my hands, ready to spring myself onto the Apple Witch or go tearing in whichever direction she pointed.
“After Tanner gave me…” She stroked the upper curve of her breast before continuing, “After Tanner and I…”
“Jessamyne,” he said. “Stop. Please just tell us what you’ve done.”
“I left them at the hospital.”
“The one here on the island?” I asked, dumbfounded. I would not have thought to look there. Chalk one up for the bat-shit crazy.
Jessamyne nodded. “I put the two of them and Tanner in a truck—such a pedestrian vehicle—and my driving might have been erratic because a police officer flashed his pretty lights and made me pull over. I explained the situation,” she said, teasing her fingers along the fabric highlighting the V of her cleavage, “and he escorted me right to the hospital, didn’t even ask to see a license or what was in the back of the truck. Just, ‘Yes, ma’am, follow me.’ I left before Jack—was that his name?—could ask me for my phone number. I don’t have a phone, but I do love having a well-trained wolf to play with when mine is otherwise engaged.” Her eyes raked Tanner up and down. She shrugged. “Maybe next time.”
“Then what did you do?” I had to unclench my jaw to ask. Sure as night followed day, Officer Jack Kaukonen would be paying me another visit.
“I left Tanner at your house,” she said. Jessamyne turned her back to him and focused on me. “In case you’re as ignorant of Tanner’s background as it appears you must be, my mother is a druidess. She is the head of her Order, and she is Tanner’s teacher. As her student, he made certain promises. He has yet to fulfill them to my...” She caught herself. Her smile went sly and calculating. “To my mother’s satisfaction.”
“What is your point?”
“Your people are safe, and I have what I came for. Though I do wish my wolf was returning home with me.”
Tanner’s low growl raised the hairs on the back of my neck higher.
I spun away from Jessamyne and grabbed the front of his shirt. “I want to go to the hospital. Now. Are you coming?”
He nodded then retracted in on himself. His hands were in clear view when a bony set of fingers enfolded my waist and spun me to face Jessamyne.
Instead, I faced the darkness beyond the house’s yellowish lights. What I thought were fingers
were branches. Getting up in my personal space was an old, old apple tree. Two of its most arm-like branches were ringed with Jessamyne’s gold bracelets. Its trunk had a sinuous twist, the leaves on its branches glossy and unblemished. Littered amongst those healthy leaves were hundreds of tight buds, waiting to be coaxed into blooming.
If this body bears me no fruit, I will be back for what is mine.
Chapter 10
Branches quavering, the Apple Witch made her way past the open gate and down the Pearmains’ driveway toward the road.
Her timing was impeccable. Her presence, her words, her entire demeanor had built an insta-wall between me and Tanner. I retrieved my boots, stomped over to my car, and tossed them into the passenger seat’s footwell.
“I’ll tell the others we’re going to the hospital,” I said, facing the front entrance of the farmhouse.
“I’m not going with you, Calliope,” he said. The car keys Jessamyne had dropped in the dirt when she’d shifted jangled in his twitching fingers.
“It’s your choice.” I shrugged. Put one foot then the other in front of me. Took hold of the tarnished metal handle of the screen door. Looked down at my dirtied toes.
I’d passed from exhaustion into that state where anything could make me cry, and I wished the thing pushing me over the edge had been a twee lamb or piglet, and not Tanner Marechal.
Fuck. I couldn’t do this.
“Does that mean you’re staying here?” I asked, scuffing my feet across the welcome mat.
I didn’t wait for Tanner to answer. I turned, ready to leap the stairs and wrap my arms around him and reassure him we could do this, that we had to do this. Together. That we could leave our baggage right here, right now, and never have to pick it up again.
But that was fanciful thinking, and by the time I finished turning around, mouth open to impart some conciliatory, soothing balm into the tension hovering between us, Tanner was gone. I tore down the stairs, dug my toes into the soil, and begged the ground to give me a sign, a clue, something.
