by Coralie Moss
“No, no, not at all,” he said. “You’ve got peach fuzz. I didn’t want you to be surprised at the sensation.”
“So far, everything about this experience rates better than my first.” I shivered as a droplet of cool water slid underneath my armpit. River patted my skin dry, sprayed a different liquid across my neck and upper back, and pressed on the transfer.
“Stay still.” His fingers smoothed over the paper before he peeled it away. “Perfect. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I exhaled, sinking the front of my chest into the padded support, only to jerk when he started the motor that powered his set up, and again when the needle bit into my skin.
“Steady, Calli. The first few minutes are the hardest.” River set up a steady rhythm of applying a gentle pressure with both hands, lowering the needle, then drawing a line. I wanted to say it was soothing, but the constant drone of the motor set my teeth on edge.
“I’m creating the outline first,” he said. “Then I’ll fill in the solid areas.”
“How long did you say this was going to take?”
He chuckled. “As long as it needs, Ms. Jones.”
I tuned out the noise and checked my phone. My mostly dormant magic had reawakened in July. As a forty-one year old witch, that meant I had to learn about and practice my gifts as much—and as quickly—as possible. And I had to study. At the urging of River’s sister, Rose—the Head Witch of the Pacific Northwest Covens and a woman not to be questioned—I enrolled in a five-year Basics of Witchcraft program. One and a half months in and I already itched to condense the time commitment to two or three years.
With that goal in mind I had taken a six-month leave of absence from my position with the local agricultural commission’s office. My former assistant texted me frequently. Otter or cat gifs meant Kerry was having a good day. Terse messages describing my temporary replacement’s antics meant she missed me. Today, I was on the receiving end of multiple images of kittens. I had to admit I missed Kerry, the steadying presence of a forty-hour work week, and the regular contact with the farmers and orchardists on the island.
Then again, upheaval had been the theme of my life since my magic came back online. Once my sons and my niece, Sallie were settled into the routines of high school and work, I’d have more bandwidth to immerse myself in magical studies and practice, practice, practice.
Or so I hoped.
I had yet to join a coven, and there was also the task of integrating my paternal grandfather into our lives. Christoph had dropped from the sky—swooped actually—at the end of a traumatic battle that had taken place on my lawn in early August.
Gramps, as Harper and Thatch had taken to calling him, was a gyrfalcon shifter and a leader amongst the Magical communities in the Northwest Territories. His wings were magnificent and permanent and the genes he carried passed to his only son, Benôit.
Benôit was my father. I had no memories of the man yet it turned out that my son, Harper also inherited the genes that caused him to sprout wings. Only, the tattoo that stifled my magic in turn dampened his. Within hours of me being released from the ink’s spell, Harper’s magic began to emerge. The speed of his physical transformation was wrenching, painful, and not entirely welcomed. Christoph had spirited Harper to northern Canada in August to help him recover, and give him space to think, live amongst other winged Shifters, and explore his options.
“What’s the latest on your eldest?” River asked.
“You reading my mind again?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Seriously?”
He continued to incise lines onto my skin and didn’t answer.
“You know, you druids really have a lock on this whole enigmatic thing,” I teased, keeping my body relaxed. “How’re things going with Airlie?” Airlie Redflesh was another local witch I’d met through the online courses and I knew she had a mild crush on River.
“She and I have a date scheduled for Friday night.”
“Ooh, love is in the air.”
“Calliope, this is our first date.”
“Excited?”
“Terrified,” he said, lifting both hands off my back and leaning away. “She’s a water witch.”
“But otter’s one of your forms,” I pointed out. I had to resist the urge to push away from the chair and look over my shoulder. “It’s the one you shift in and out of the most. Airlie’s into water and you are too but in a different way—ouch—isn’t that like a perfect match?”
“That’s what terrifies me.” River again settled into his task. I breathed through the constant grating buzz of his machine and focused on the music coming from the café across the alley.
Scrolling through emails, I found nothing urgent and decided I should get to know Airlie better. I could invite her over for tea. Or that glass of wine my friend Rowan and I kept trying to schedule. “Oh, to answer your question, according to Christoph, Harper’s doing well. Leilani’s reports are a little less rosy, but I get the sense going north was a good decision for her too.”
Magicals who retained their form, or aspects of their physical form, on a permanent basis had a tendency to frighten the general public. The sparsely populated, physically spacious Northern Territories were perfect for Shifters and others like Christoph and Harper. The place was less supportive of Harper’s girlfriend, Leilani whose magic—a combination of witchcraft and spell-work—was closer to her fathers’. She had lobbied hard to go along to lend emotional support and if she ever needed to leave, home was a few portal hops away.
“You can get up and stretch, take a bathroom break if you need to,” said River. “Then I’ll fill in the shaded areas.”
“Thanks.” In the bathroom, I tried to peek at the design without success. The space was too tight to maneuver.
Back in the chair, I had to ask River my burning question. His friend—and my maybe-boyfriend—had been off the radar and completely incommunicado for six weeks. I was beginning to wonder if I’d been dumped. “Have you heard anything from Tanner?”
“Sec,” he answered. “Let me get this going.”
Gaah. I had to close my eyes and focus on breathing until my skin again acclimated to the sensation of the needle. If the news was bad, I wanted River to rip off the emotional band-aid and tell me straight.
“You know Tanner’s teacher is one of the oldest and most venerated druidesses, yes?” he said.
I went to shake my head, when River lifted the needle and reminded me to stay still.
“I didn’t know that. But I don’t know much about druids.”
River exhaled through his nose, “Ni’eve du Blanc comes from a different time and she continues to live and teach at her own pace.”
“Is that your way of saying you have heard from Tanner?”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that negotiations between Ni’eve, the Goddess, Idunn, and what’s left of the Keepers have reached a very delicate balance.”
Oh. A Keeper of the sacred trees that bore Idunn’s beloved apples of immortality had gone rogue. Or the Magical equivalent. That rogue Keeper—Ni’eve’s daughter, Jessamyne, who I’d nicknamed the Apple Witch—had been involved with my maybe-boyfriend.
She had also set her sights on eliminating me from the competition for Tanner’s attention.
“Calliope, druids become druids because they survive their training, not by an accident of birth. Tanner’s a good man who takes his obligations seriously. He’ll finish with Ni’eve, and then he’ll be back.” He lifted his inking gun and released the foot pedal. “I need to take five,” he said. “My hand’s cramping.”
River’s timing was perfect. Talk of Tanner agitated me, especially when I pictured him spending the past six weeks in his ex’s proximity. I was not the jealous type, but something about Jessamyne had always irritated me.
Okay, a few things. No more than four.
I tried tracing the chipped edges of the linoleum floor squares then closed my eyes and recalled the way Bear’s paws
had always—always—been a reassuring weight against my skin.
The stool squeaked and the cushion gave a funny sigh as River’s weight settled. “Okay, where were we?” he asked.
“You were giving me the background on Tanner and Jessamyne.”
The druid’s hmm competed with the buzzing of the machine. “My understanding is Jessamyne wanted the status of being her mother’s daughter and the arcane knowledge that came with being a Keeper. She made promises left and right regarding her fidelity—to Iduun, to the Keepers, and to Tanner—and she failed on all of them. She’s got the biggest case of wanderlust I’ve ever come across.”
I let River’s assessment sink in. Tanner had yet to explain exactly how long his association with Jessamyne had gone on, and when he had ended their intimate relationship. “Is that Wanderlust the yoga festival, Wanderlust with a capital W, or wanderlust with a small W?”
“That is wanderlust in all caps, Calli. And it’s a very real condition, afflicting those who are constitutionally challenged to put down roots.”
“From what I’ve seen of her,” I said, muttering my opinion into the towel covering the face rest, “she could be wanderlust’s poster child.” And if the Apple Witch ever decided the cure was to settle on my island, she had another think coming. I knew the best root-ball specialists in all of Canada and they owed me a job.
River stopped again and laughed at my comments. “I would give a decade of my life to sit in on their negotiations. Far as I can put together, Idunn was not happy with either Ni’eve or Jessamyne.”
I met Idunn in early August and I continued to rehash that encounter. The Norse Goddess intimated she had much to say to the mother-daughter duo charged with protecting the lineage of the trees that produced her magical apples.
The words she saved for Tanner and me were the ones I remembered. According to Idunn—and her beloved apple seeds’ enthusiastic awakening—Tanner and I might have a future. If he could get his butt out of France and back to British Columbia.
“And we’re done,” said River, quieting his machine. I’d been reviewing my otherworldly and unforgettable encounter with the Norse Goddess while he finished. He blotted the design and held out a wide, oval hand mirror. “Have a look.”
I stood, clutched my T-shirt to the front of my chest, and shook out my legs. I turned my back to the big mirror running the full length of the wall and checked River’s work.
Even though I knew Aunt Noémi was dead, and her animal familiar along with her, I wasn’t prepared for seeing the likeness of Bear’s paw prints. River had positioned them precisely where I had often felt the creature’s presence as they guarded and guided me.
My sinuses tingled, warning me tears were on their way. I returned the mirror before my shaking hand dropped it and sat on the stool. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “And it’s perfect.”
River’s smile was genuine and pleased. “Let me get you cleaned and bandaged. Then you can head out.”
* * *
“Hey, Aunt Calliope!” My almost nineteen-year-old niece, Sallie waved from across the street. She waited for a break in the traffic before dashing across the road to where I was unlocking my car. “Can I see it?”
“River says I have to keep my skin covered for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Okay.” She gave a half-hearted pout and slipped her arms around my waist. “I’m trying to be out in public more. But it’s really hard.” Sallie had been homeschooled since she was twelve or thirteen. Technically, she had all the needed credits to graduate high school. But neither her parents nor her tutors had filed the paperwork required by the province. She was in limbo until we got it sorted. Though now that public schools were in session and offices were fully staffed, I expected Sallie would have her diploma soon. In the meantime, she had taken Harper’s Monday through Friday shifts at Brooks Family Farm and helped out with the Tuesday and Saturday Farmer’s Markets.
We stood in the parking lot, close to my car, with her arms around my waist and my arms circling her shoulders. I hadn’t known this reserved young woman all that well prior to the summer’s events. Her family, the Flechettes, frowned on rubbing elbows with the Joneses. Sallie was revealing herself to me—to all of us—slowly while processing her overwhelming and at times incapacitating feelings of shame.
Her parents, Josiah and Garnet, were in jail, probably for the rest of their lives, for murdering at least two hidden folk. The hidden folk on Salt Spring Island and throughout the Pacific Northwest tended to the apple orchards, connecting them to Iduun as well as the Keepers.
The Flechettes were Fae. Josiah and Garnet had collared Sallie starting when she was twelve using spelled ribbons and jewelry to hide her unusual features and mute her magic. She was just now coming to grips with who she was, what her nascent magical skills might be, and where she belonged. As far as I was concerned, my niece could call my old A-frame house home for as long as she needed.
With his brother away, Thatcher was thrilled to have his cousin living under the same roof.
“Are you ready for this weekend?” I asked, happy to see her off the property and out in public. The coming Friday marked the start of the first Magical mentoring weekend of the academic year. Sallie and Thatcher planned to go. Harper and Leilani would attend if they got back from the Northwest Territories in time.
“Yeah? No? Maybe?” she said, staring out at the street. The six blocks to either side of the main thoroughfare, though bustling, were quieter than during the summer rush. I doubted Sallie saw any of it. “I wish I could bring Jasper.”
Jasper was the Maine Coon cat on extended loan from yet another witch in my expanding circle of Magicals. Jasper helped mitigate the effects of withdrawal Sallie had been experiencing. Her parents had been remanded to a subterranean holding cell and were no longer able to mask or control their daughter or her magic from behind the thick walls.
“Have you asked Wes and Kaz about taking the cat along?”
“No,” she responded, biting one of her already stubby nails. “Should I?”
“Yes. Absolutely. But I would ask his owner first.” The witch had more than one magical Coon cat, and overnight Jasper had become a favorite of Sallie and Thatcher’s.
“Okay.”
Seeing as I had no orchards to tromp through, and it was still officially summer, I was wearing flip flops a la Tanner. The druid wore them all the time in order to access the earth and its energy. I missed him and had adopted the footwear after he left for France. The thin soles kept me in more intimate contact with the ground than my leather boots.
When an oily, viscous sensation hit the bottoms of both feet, I had to take a quick breath and tamp down the desire to shuck the floppy sandals and run.
“Sallie,” I said, assessing our immediate area for possible threats, “do you feel that?”
She tightened her grip, the bones of her forearms almost bruising my ribs. “I do, Aunt Calliope, and I don’t like it. It’s making me feel sick to my stomach.”
The Magical signature echoed one I encountered the same day I met Tanner and began this whirlwind odyssey into a world of magic and Magical beings. Once again, the signature blinked in and out from the vicinity of the marina, a mere three blocks away. There, float planes, fishing boats and yachts docked alongside one another. One of the yachts, the Merry Widow, belonged to my ex mother-in-law. Intellectually, I knew she was under house arrest at her estate in Victoria.
Emotionally, my gut roiled at the thought of encountering Meribah Flechette any time soon.
Sallie’s battered fingernails contracted and elongated, switching erratically between her chewed-at human version and the claws Fae trained themselves to use as weapons. I swept away the shoulder-length hair she kept deliberately shaggy. Her ears were turning too.
“Get in the car,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Lock the doors and lie down. Now.”
Sallie had been schooled into round-the-clock obedience by the collars her parents forced her to
wear for over six years. She no longer wore a collar yet even without the magic-imbued restraint, she reacted to my command without question.
Though that was what I needed her to do in the moment, we were going to have to talk about how quickly she acquiesced later.
I pointed to a strip of bushes and trees separating the public parking area from the section of businesses. I could dig my toes into the soil and keep Sallie in sight.
“I’ll be right over there.”
Sallie’s face was streaked with splotches of red and white. She mouthed, ‘Okay’.
The sickening sensation heralding the Magical’s presence grew stronger. The tree I ducked under was someone’s camping spot. I pressed my hand into the deep grooves of the bark, scuffed away leaves and a crushed can, and slipped one foot out of the flip flop. Toes in the soil, I kept glancing at my car as I attempted to pinpoint the oddly colored spot.
The surface of the blackish area swirled with a rainbow of colors, like a shallow puddle on an oil-slicked bit of road. Hating to have Sallie out of my sight, but not knowing how else to do what I needed to do, I closed both eyes and settled all ten toes into the soil.
A circuit board of Magical signatures spread and multiplied across the insides of my eyelids and through my brain. I recognized the familiar colors connected to store owners and other workers. Those I often saw when I read the downtown area.
Added now were a handful—five maybe, or six—of the oily swirls, tightly joined and moving together. My eyelids flew open. The group was approaching the building backing onto the parking lot. The building belonged to the Flechette Realty and Property Development Group.
I forced my dirtied feet into my flip flops and hurried to my car. I didn’t press the unlock button on my key fob until I made sure my niece saw me.
“Sallie,” I said, whispering. Which was entirely unnecessary. “Sit up slowly. I’m going to move us out of here and drive around the front of the realtor’s office.”
“If you mean my family’s business, just say it, Aunt Calli.”
I nodded. “Yes, that one.” I started the car, backed up, and stopped at the exit area to let a group make their way along the crosswalk. The queasy feeling in my belly strengthened.
