Magic Reclaimed

by Coralie Moss

  “There are two places on the property where we could hold an advantage,” Wes said. “The burial mounds because of their proximity to the portal. And the underland. Let’s start with where we are and acquaint our guests with the lay of this land.”

  He had taped together lengths of butcher paper and placed them on the floor in the sitting room. The hooked rugs were rolled and stored against a wall. He waved the end of his stick at the hand-drawn map and talked us through the Pearmains’ extensive property.

  I fidgeted, made antsy by my growing anticipation for this to be over and to have the boys safely home and unharmed. Vadim and Primèvere’s easy acceptance of our proposal rang true and gave me faith that Fae could love their offspring as much as any other Magical.

  And not simply see them as ammunition or bargaining chips. I returned my attention to Wes.

  “The farmhouse sits fairly close to the road, but it’s blocked from sight due to the embankment and the invasive plants that have been allowed to flourish. I was questioning Cliff’s choice in an otherwise well-maintained orchard, but I’m beginning to see the wisdom in his negligence. This is the only section of the property that’s been left to its own devices, creating a dense, natural barrier. One not easily passed by humans. And this area follows the L-shaped curve in the road. To this side of the property are the outbuildings that house equipment and livestock—though there are no animals at present. Here we also have the younger fruit trees, including that section dedicated to the tall spindle method I believe Clifford began to experiment with at Hyslop and Peasgood’s urging.”

  They nodded.

  Wes swept the stick to the right. “Over here are the older trees. The farther from the house, the older they are. In the middle here, at the far end of the property, farmland abuts protected forest. It’s in this central section,” he paused, the tip of the stick circling, “where Clifford found two burial mounds constructed by First Nations people. He and others built the three mounds that more resemble those found in the British Isles and are therefore more familiar in structure to the Fae.” He moved the stick again. “And here is the underland.”

  I had no idea what an underland was, but the word sent a ripple through the Fae and Hyslop and Peasgood. I was getting comfortable with being the most clueless Magical in the room and asked the obvious question. “Can you explain what the underland is?”

  “The underland is different things to different people—be they humans, Magicals, or other creatures,” he began, placing his stick on the floor and turning to face me. He used his hands to help me understand. “Picture a tunnel-like structure, the purpose of which is to hold…emotions, concepts, even physical constructs, all related to what we fear or wish to hide. Or wish had remained hidden in the first place. These have the potential to become places of great power. The power to destroy bodies as well as minds. And the power to transform.”

  “And there is an underland here?”

  “There is. It looks like a small grape arbor from the outside. Quite innocuous and unimposing, due to the brilliance of the hidden folk who thought to create a tunnel that lies both below and aboveground. The underland is simultaneously an earthen crypt and crucible, minus the fire.”

  “How will this help us get Harper and Thatcher back?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 22

  We had bodies. The bodies had magic and weapons and were willing to insert themselves into whatever was coming.

  We had the underland, burial mounds, tunnels under apple trees, and at least one portal.

  And no plan. No weapons. My shoulders sagged with the weight of my frustration. Here we were, attempting to manipulate Meribah into showing herself, when she had been moving me—and her sons, I could give them that much—like game pieces for as long as I had known her.

  “If we got hold of Meribah and whoever comes with her—like, physically holding them—can we portal them someplace off planet?” I asked, in a moment of wishful thinking.

  That got a laugh.

  “Not exactly. But I like the way you’re thinking,” said Wes.

  “If I may?” asked one of the guard Fae. “We’ve engaged on a number of occasions with Meribah and those who follow her. Nothing terribly deadly, but she does like to poke and provoke, to see how far she can push before you do one of three things.” The guard held up her forefinger. “First, she’ll watch how you defend yourself. I speak here of the tools and weapons you use, as well as your technique, your preferred style of defense. The next time you meet she will know how to get through that defense. Meribah will always look for your weaknesses.”

  I could attest to that. After Thatcher’s birth, Meribah had begun a slow campaign to wear down my self-confidence with subtle jabs at everything from my mothering to the circumference of my waistline. Now that I knew she had been pursuing a match between Doug and the LaFleur sisters while I was in my post-natal funk, more of her behaviors were making sense.

  Twisted sense. But at heart that was Meribah.

  “Second,” said the same guard, “she’ll observe what it takes to get you to fight back. And she will incorporate that information into her tactics in the middle of the negotiations or the attack. Third, she will be waiting to see how you maneuver offensively. Do you lead with your right or left side, or do you charge straight up the middle? Do you engage in verbal sparring? She’ll be looking for your physical tells.”

  Another of the Fae broke in. “She’s quite skilled and should never be underestimated.”

  I was getting firsthand lessons in that.

  “Do you know how many allies she has?” I asked. “I have no idea how many Fae or other Magicals might accompany her here.”

  “Not as many as she would like. Her sons. Her sister, Adelaide. We know from the two spies we have planted amongst her household staff that those who work at the estate are not skilled fighters. They’re quite capable of defending the property, but I cannot see them coming here with her,” said another of the guards. “Though we should expect others.”

  The lead guard’s nod was slow and thoughtful. “Yes. But Primèvere and Vadim are skillful. Meribah will ask only Adelaide and two others to accompany her, reasoning that Némophilie and Silène will need added protection. Any more and it will read as a potential provocation. There are twelve of us. Four—two per daughter—will remain in a protected area, close to the portal. They will be prepared to defend the sisters and transport them out if needed. The other eight can be divided amongst the rest of you and will assist as asked.”

  “Can you glamour yourselves into looking not-Fae?” I asked. “And how do we deal with Meribah’s blades? And that spinning thing she does?” I described how Tanner helped me interrupt Meribah’s momentum when she was doing her best to imitate a helicopter with a thousand rotors.

  “We came armed with swordbreakers.” Three of the Fae held out long daggers with notched edges. “The blade is trapped here,” the speaker continued, pointing to one of the notches, “and once we have it trapped, we give a hard twist. We break their blades, and if we cannot do so thusly, we dull and gouge the edges. Which is why we work in groups of two, three, or four.” The same guard then spoke to the hidden folk. “Where would the owners of the farm keep their tools?”

  “Shed. Maybe the barn?”

  “Show us.”

  While Wes, Hyslop, and Peasgood led a group of eight Fae to the outbuildings, the other four, plus Belle and the sisters, looked to me.

  “I’m an Earth Witch,” I said. “I’ve only recently had my initiation and Blood Ceremony. I’m able to call on invasive species of vines and direct them to bind. But I’m not sure what else I can do.”

  “You can name, Calliope, and with that naming ability, you can freeze an opponent,” said Rose. She and L’Runa had arrived without anyone of us noticing. “Though not for long.”

  “How did you get in here all quiet-like?” asked Belle, pushing herself off the couch. She tiptoed around the map and embrac
ed her two friends.

  “We employed no magical means. You, however, are deeply engaged in whatever it is you are planning.” L’Runa bent, gathered her skirt to her legs, and traced the pathway Wes had drawn, from the farmhouse to the area with the burial mounds. “Rose, look at this. Did you know we had an underland on this island?”

  “I did not.”

  “It is rare that something with the potential to devour magic would escape your notice.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Rose said. She looked at me. “Calliope, a word?”

  I followed Rose and L’Runa up the staircase to the second floor. Rose led us around the landing to a spacious work room filled with Abigail’s sewing projects. She cleared a stack of quilt pieces from the work table and gestured to L’Runa. “Let’s have a look at the soil samples Calliope collected.”

  I went to stop her, thinking Rose’s timing was way off and the soil samples merely a distraction from where my attention needed to be. By the time a coherent objection was working its way from my brain to my mouth, L’Runa had unrolled a rectangular piece of absorbent paper. On it she had drawn a grid, and in each square was a clear brush mark. On top of the brush marks were dustings of soil, and most of the samples had spots of color. Watery reds, browns, blues, greens, and more.

  “I first use a substance to hold the sample to the testing paper,” said L’Runa. “Once the sample has adhered, I brush a liquid over each sample that encourages the magic-based elements to separate. By elements, I mean grains of sand, bits of organic material, whatever the eye can and cannot detect.”

  Her methods mirrored the ones I employed when testing soil for non-approved additives, minus the test tubes. Yesterday, L’Runa had hinted field work would be part of the module on blood. I held on to my front row seat.

  “What you are seeing here is those elements rearranged into their distinct base grouping. For example, the red is human blood, the blue is Fae, the brown is Shifter, green is witch. Using a magnifying glass—or better yet, a microscope—I can then determine the percentage of overlapping colors. For instance, equal parts red and green tell me we have half-human, half-witch. Once I have this breakdown, I use a three-dimensional stacking method to estimate the age of the element. The most telling samples came from this area.” L’Runa pointed to the squares that coincided with the corner of the cellar farthest from the door. “They tell a consistent story, in terms of age. Thirty-five years ago, a Fae female, a witch female, and a witch female with shamanic training shed blood at the same time.”

  No wonder the cellar had always given me cause to shake in my shoes.

  “Another thing I can tell you is the two witches were related,” she said.

  “And what about the bear?” I asked.

  L’Runa crossed her arms, sighed, then leaned forward.

  “Decomposed bear fur showed up all through the samples.” She swept her hand across the entire piece of paper until she hovered over an area closer to the entranceway to the cellar. “Especially here. No bones, no blood saturation. Simply fur.” She placed her other hand on my shoulder. “Someone who lived on the land for a long time spent part of their life as a bear or had a strong connection to bear energy. Which leads me back to the witch with shamanic training.”

  “I have no idea who that could be,” I said. “My memories of my mother do not feel connected to bears at all.”

  “What about the two visitors at your Blood Ceremony?” Rose said.

  “I’m pretty certain the wolf was Tanner.” And the other, less distinguishable presence could very well have been Bear. “Did you find anything else?”

  L’Runa shook her head. “No, not on this go-round. Had I more time and larger samples, there is more I could do, including your request to work with memory. If some mystery in here needs solving, I can come to your house and work on site.”

  “Thank you for doing this on extremely short notice,” I said. “And so you both know, we’re expecting a confrontation with Fae from the Flechette family here tonight.”

  Rose turned away from the table, strode to the door and back. Her skin was clammy where her fingers touched my wrist. “My magic is defensive, Calliope. I can’t meet the Fae head on, but if you need me to stay in case anyone gets hurt, I can do that much.”

  Downstairs, the house was mostly quiet. Belle, Néne, Sil, and their protectors were in or near the kitchen, preparing food. I ducked out the front door to check my car. The battery had another thirty minutes before it finished charging, and in my rush to get off my knees and out of the dirt, I’d forgotten to clean up the remnants of my lunch and unplug my cell phone.

  Messages. Of course there were messages. Rose letting me know she was on her way. A voicemail from my one of my cousins, who would only call if my aunt was deteriorating.

  Or had died. I bounced my forehead against the steering wheel. Having my grandfather appear in my life wouldn’t balance out losing the one person who connected me to my mother. My hand shook as I dialed in to listen to the message.

  “Calli, it’s Clyde. Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but Mom has been super lucid all day and she insisted I call you. Like, insisted.” He laughed a little. “I thought she was going to make us check her out and bring her home, but anyways, she said it was very important that I get a message to you. Call me when you get this.”

  I pressed the redial icon and held the phone to my ear.

  “Calliope! You got my message.” My cousin’s voice wobbled between confusion and joy at the unexpected reprieve.

  “Hey, Clyde, yeah, I did.” I felt around for a spare paper napkin to wipe the sweat gathering across my forehead. “What did your mom have to say to me?”

  “I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget. Hold on a sec.”

  The smudges on my shirt and the amount I was sweating had me thinking I really should shower before much longer. I couldn’t think at all about what had brought my aunt out of her mental decline.

  “I’m back. And I know this is going to sound weird, but I’m doing this for Mom because we’ve had, like, a miracle today. Here goes. ‘Calliope. Your mother asked me to take care of you, and I did the best I could. I had to protect you, and I did so with love. My only regret is I never told you our story in person. Next time you visit, we can talk about everything.’” Clyde let out a long breath. “Okay, here’s where it gets weird. ‘Trust the bear. Let the bear in, let the bear help you, and do not be afraid.’ Do you even understand what she’s talking about?”

  “I might,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and confident when what I wanted was to curl into my aunt’s generous lap and cry for our mutual losses.

  “The last part is, ‘When you are done, please send the bear back to me.’” Clyde sighed. “Having Mom be lucid at this stage is a miracle, Calli. I don’t think it’ll last long, but maybe you should come and visit her. Soon.”

  “I will,” I said. I had to press my palm to my mouth, breathe in through my nose, count to ten. “And thank you, Clyde. Please give your mom a hug from me.”

  Once I collected myself, I rejoined the witches in the kitchen and pulled aside Rose and L’Runa. “My cousin called. The bear is connected to my mother’s sister, Noémi. Which answers the question of the fur. I’m willing to guess the Fae blood is Meribah’s, and the witches are Noémi and my mother, Genevieve.”

  Rose and L’Runa patted my back. Belle hustled them aside. “Maybe it’s time for you and your former mother-in-law to sit down and have a nice cup of tea,” she said. “I make a special blend that could contribute to her experiencing a rather extreme attitude adjustment.”

  The look of innocence on her face would work—on those who didn’t know her.

  Her grin turned serious. “With the right plant material, I can do almost anything. Which is my way of saying, how can I help? The afternoon is marching on, and it’s time to hunker down and talk strategy. L’Runa, you’re one of our blood experts. Calli can read soil like nobody’s business. What can she do to defend her
self?”

  “Do you have your wand?” L’Runa asked. When I nodded, she continued. “What about portal stones?”

  “No stones.”

  “Belle, remind the druids we should all have a stone.”

  “Duly noted.” Belle pulled a notepad and pen from her apron.

  “As much as possible, I avoid portal travel.” L’Runa—tall, strong L’Runa—shuddered. “Makes me so damn nauseous.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Belle raised one finger. “I have remedies for Portal Induced Nausea, P. I. N. When this is over, stop by my shop, both of you.”

  The hands of the kitchen clock moved into place with a faint buzz. Four o’clock. I checked my phone, even though it hadn’t vibrated or rung since I’d hung up with Clyde. No messages or texts.

  Voices calling from outside brought us to the back door. Wes and the Fae were carrying an array of tools. Hyslop and Peasgood strode to the foot of the steps, grinned at Nène and Sil, and lifted their arms. In their hands were heavy-duty wire cutters and a pair of those claw-like scissors used to cut shapes out of pieces of metal.

  My gaze went from their hopeful, dirt-smeared faces to the tools.

  We were so fucked. Though the LaFleur’s guards, anticipating Meribah’s armaments, had brought their swordbreakers, making us a little less fucked. I hoped.

  “Sorry that took so long,” said Wes. “We used the opportunity to oil and sharpen every cutting surface. Let’s eat and get this operation set up.”

  The kitchen witches and Fae sisters had made platters and platters of sandwiches, pitchers of iced tea, and a carafe of hot coffee.

  I poured a glass of the tea and sipped while perusing the selection of sandwich fillings. Sil pointed to a large oval platter. “Those are fresh goat cheese,” she said, “and whatever herbal magic Belle used to enhance the dressing.”

  “Thank you for the recommendation.” I plated the two halves of my second sandwich of the day and avoided making eye contact, hoping to send the message I wanted to be alone. I left the porch, passing the big leaf maple on my way to the wizened fruit trees beyond.