by Coralie Moss
“I’ll head to Calli’s house when we’re done and likely hop a ferry to the mainland later tonight or first thing tomorrow.”
River nodded. “One more thing. I removed all the charms hanging off the front gate when I fixed it. They’re in a sack, which I’ll leave at your car. Take a look at what’s in there. Might have something to do with the spell they were under, might not.” He set off down the path, his walk loose and relaxed. “Keep me in the loop,” he shouted before a turn in the path took him from sight.
Tanner crumpled onto the grass beside me.
Chapter 10
“I like him,” I said, “I like Kaz and Wes too. And Rose, but she’s…”
Rose’s focus was the health of her patients. My contact with her thus far had been perfunctory.
I tried not take her lack of warmth personally.
“Rose is complicated, Calli, but she’s the best herbalist I know and she’s dedicated to keeping her lineage going. And if she lives long enough, she’d like to see it expand and thrive.” He shifted closer to me then changed his mind and reclined on the ground, folding in on himself as though the kiss we shared had never happened.
“Tanner, you feel it, don’t you?” I was unwilling to chalk up everything about our physical encounter to an invisible force, but I needed to hear his take.
He crossed his arms over his face. “Why don’t you explain what you mean?”
I pressed my palms onto the grass and closed my eyes. Well below the surface, a palpable presence rolled and stretched, pleading with me to shed my clothes for an afternoon of naked sunbathing and apple-sampling and kissing. More and more kissing.
Releasing the connection, I turned to face Tanner. “Close your eyes. And tell me you don’t feel desire.”
Tanner shook his head and scrabbled to stand. “Calliope, I…”
“Come here,” I said. He really was going to fight me on this. I rolled onto my hands and knees and crawled the three feet that would bring me within reach of his ankles. I grabbed the bottom of one of his pant legs and tugged. “Come. Please.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why won’t you relax and feel it with me? Aren’t you an investigator? Isn’t this what you do?” I licked my upper lip and sat back on my heels, thighs parted. The ground below my legs warmed and softened. I wanted Tanner to get over his resistance and crawl over to me.
Feline in its desire for touch, the ground agreed. I spread my knees wide, arched my spine, and offered Tanner a silent invitation.
He stared. Stormy weather clouded his eyes and put a damper on my otherwise lovely afternoon. “Calliope, get off the ground.”
I refused. I sprawled on my back and rolled my head. No. The little rocks underneath me didn’t hurt at all. The welcome bites of pain reminded me I was ripe and ready to rumble. Two buttons on my shirt popped off. My fingers curled into the grass. Desire forced my legs apart, and I almost ripped down the zipper of my pants.
This was not my desire.
“Tanner,” I pleaded, bound in place, “help.”
He grabbed a wrist, wrenched me to my feet, and hurried us both to the path.
I bent over, dropped to my hands and knees, and retched. “What the hell just happened?”
Tanner kneeled in front of me, wiped my mouth, and cupped my face in his wide palms. “Everything you just felt was an extension of whatever inhabits this orchard, and I’m starting to think it’s connected to her.”
My knees almost buckled underneath the weight of that idea. I whispered, “Everything?”
“Almost,” he said, offering a slightly pained smile.
I plunked my forehead against his chest, inhaled the musk and mint scent of him brought to the surface by the heat. His hands slipped from my face as his arms circled my shoulders. “How are we going to run an investigation,” I asked, “if everything we feel or everything that happens is potentially influenced by her magic?” I lifted my head and looked into Tanner’s eyes. “It is the Apple Witch, isn’t it? Or is it something else?”
He shook his head and offered no answer.
I looked around. Sparrows flitted from branch to branch, their calls filling the air with avian banter. Sunshine warmed the apples’ skins, releasing sweet scents. It took a Herculean effort to extract myself from the soporific influence of our surroundings, slip from Tanner’s embrace, and gather my things into my backpack. My buttons were casualties of our encounter. I accepted his hand as he urged us away from that section of the orchard.
“Now I know how sailors feel when they hear the sirens singing,” I muttered.
Tanner glanced at me and grimaced. “Exactly. And I’ve known a few good men who’ve gone down.”
I swallowed. I was joking about sirens.
* * *
The porch was deserted when we came within hollering distance of the Pearmains’ house. Rose must have been alerted to our arrival. She exited the back door, closed it deliberately, and waited for us to get closer.
“Calliope,” she began, her voice softer than before, “we need to hurry. I heard from the other witches, and they want us to meet them tomorrow on the Blood Moon. Which seems a good omen considering your Blood Ceremony comes next after this ritual of initiation.”
My knees shook. This was getting real. I reached for Tanner’s wrist.
“I can drop the boys at the Fulford ferry,” he volunteered, “or they can take the one later tonight out of Long Harbor.”
“I don’t even know what I need,” I stuttered.
Ms. Petite and Formidable gave me the once-over. Her waist-length hair was absolutely striking, its dark silver and white strands patterned like a wild checkerboard starting at her roots. I couldn’t tell if the pattern was natural or dyed, and I wasn’t about to ask.
“Here.” Rose paused on the lowest step and handed over a book with a folded piece of paper tucked inside. “I made a list of supplies you’ll need to bring. Call me if there’s anything you can’t locate. And don’t forget to read the book. All of it.”
Lucky for me I was a fast reader.
Tanner’s steadying hand left my lower back when he stepped from behind and made his way to the stairs. “Rose, are Cliff and Abigail all right to be left alone?”
She nodded, turning to the screen door and leading us into the house. “Come say your goodbyes. They have plenty of food, and they don’t appear to have any residual physical discomfort. I had Clifford drive their truck to the road and back, and he did just fine.” Rose lowered her voice, leaned into Tanner, and whispered, “Him being cranky is a good sign.”
* * *
I crested the last hill before the center of town. Tanner spent the entire ride from the Pearmains’ staring out his open window. My insides were reeling from the effects of kissing him. Not knowing how much of his past had arrived to haunt, influence, or seduce him, I wasn’t sure I wanted more of his company. If I dropped him in town, he could figure out how to get to my house, maybe commandeer a hefty stick and fashion it into a mode of transport.
I didn’t realize I’d snorted out loud at the image of Tanner astride a makeshift witch’s broom until I realized he was looking at me oddly.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“Not really. Do you want me to leave you anywhere?”
“I’m fine going to your house, if you’re fine having me there.”
Fine. I focused on the road ahead and the ever-present clusters of gawping tourists. Tanner could have a time-out in the car while I shopped. Rose’s list included items stocked at the natural foods store, and I was in and out in a few minutes.
“I have to make one more stop before we head home.” After the incident at the orchard, I wanted to add another herbal ally to my garden, and there was a well-stocked nursery on the northern tip of the island. Tanner grunted, re-folded his arms across his chest, and returned to staring out his window.
I parked. He elected to stay in the car and paw through the bag of trinkets River had left on th
e back seat. Shrugging my bag over one shoulder, I ignored the feeling Tanner was tracking me through the rear view mirror. Once I located the rows of potted herbs, I lifted one after the other to my nose. I crushed a few leaves and petals between my fingers until I decided two pots of motherwort would fit in nicely with my other herbs.
“Got what I needed.” I tucked the pots behind the passenger’s seat. Once I buckled myself in and started the engine, I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and turned to look at my passenger.
The air around him was cool, like he’d withdrawn every bit of heat and curiosity into himself. Maybe he wasn’t the one raising the fine hairs across my back and up my neck.
“Did you feel anything just now or when I was shopping in town?”
“No. Nothing.”
I backed up, shifted, and drove to the road. An SUV with tinted windows was parked in the pull-off area by the bank of rural mailboxes. The sign on the driver’s side door declared it property of the Flechette Realty and Development Group. With at least six offices on the lower mainland and Gulf Islands, it was inevitable I’d see my ex or his fellow agents out with clients, but I didn’t recognize the citified woman behind the oversized sunglasses.
“Tanner. What was the name on the business card left at the Pearmains’?”
He scanned his phone. “Adelaide Dunfay.”
Bingo. I would bet my two pots of motherwort Ms. Dunfay’s presence on this sparsely-populated road was anything but coincidental. “Can you keep an eye on the car behind us?”
Moody one moment, alert the next, Tanner repositioned the back of his seat and adjusted the mirror on his side of the car. “What’s up?”
“Not only is that one of my ex’s SUVs, the name on the door matches the business card from the Pearmains. And I haven’t seen a single For Sale sign anywhere on this road.”
That solidified his attention. “Any reason to suspect Doug or his family would send someone to follow you?”
“Well, no,” I mused, signaling the upcoming right-hand turn with my blinker. “But the boys are supposed to spend the weekend with him, and they mentioned he’s bought a new condo in Vancouver and I’m curious, that’s all.”
The SUV’s left blinker went on. The driver peeled away and accelerated up the winding road toward the other side of the island.
“Should we turn around and follow her?” I asked.
“No.” Tanner flipped his visor up. “How long were you two married?”
“Twelve years.”
Three or four kilometers passed before he spoke again. “He involved with anyone now?”
“No idea.”
“Are you?”
I negotiated the final set of tight curves, pulled into my driveway, and chuffed out a breath. “Nope. I have mysterious troll heads and missing bodies to occupy my time.”
Harper and Thatcher were eager to talk about the mentoring program. Tanner offered to drive them to the Fulford ferry, which would give them time to ask questions and me time to start packing.
Rose’s note included a meal plan for Saturday dinner and Sunday breakfast. I held the list with both hands, circled my kitchen for inspiration, and settled on homemade granola. My version was so laden with nuts and chunks of dried fruit it could double as a snack and best of all, I had everything I needed on hand.
I gathered the ingredients, set the oven to a low temperature, and measured, mixed, and tweaked. Once the baking trays were in the oven, I set a ten-minute reminder and settled on a stool to read the book Rose provided.
Underneath the list of camping supplies were the objects required for the ritual: Wand. Athame. Bowl. Red dress. Yarn or ribbon, at least three yards.
Shit.
I marked my place in the book and scrabbled off the stool. Somewhere in my bedroom closet or the attic crawl space was a collection of sewing notions and unfinished craft projects, bits and pieces that had belonged to my aunt and my maternal grandmother. Or so my aunt said. Surely, I could cobble together the needed length from those remnants.
The timer dinged. I dashed to the kitchen, stirred the granola, and returned to my closet. I located one rubber band-wrapped shoebox that harbored a small stash of holiday ribbons, but very little of it felt nice to the hand or as though it could last through a ritual—even though I had no idea what the ritual entailed. I would check the attic after Tanner returned.
He was returning, right?
I reviewed our last conversation, the hurried bits as the boys stuffed clean clothes and toiletries into their backpacks after pulling out the smelly stuff from two nights before. Yes, Tanner had reiterated, he’d stay another night—if I was willing to again provide a bed—and figure out his next move after we debriefed.
Better to keep reading and lower the risk of burning the granola, and ask for help getting into the attic.
* * *
Car lights swept across the kitchen, and the familiar rattle of the Jeep settling to a full stop brought me out of Rose’s book. The granola had cooled, and I was completely immersed in reading about the many stages of a woman’s life, be she Magical or human, and the rituals meant to herald us into each stage.
Turns out, at the tender age of forty-one, I lacked fully one-hundred-percent of the suggested minimum rituals needed to help grow and sustain my magical gifts. It was a wonder I’d managed to keep my hands working under such dire straits. The weight drawing down my shoulders pooled in my heart and the bottoms of my feet. Maybe the couch could just swallow me whole.
“How are you?” asked Tanner, stepping into the kitchen. He brought his face close to the cooled granola and inhaled. “And this smells delicious.”
At least I could cook. “Thanks. It’s my culinary contribution to my upcoming journey deep into the realms of witch magic. Which, according to this book,” I lifted the paperback and waved it in the air, “I lack. I’m going to need months to catch up, if not years. It’s a wonder my magic even works anymore.”
I tried a dramatic sigh.
Tanner responded with a short laugh and a more serious assessment. “Perhaps your ability to sense through your hands and feet as well as you do speaks to the power you’ve managed to keep alive.”
“Perhaps. I rarely wield my wand, but I am making a new one.” I pulled myself off the couch and joined him in the kitchen. The granola was cool enough to pour into glass containers and add to my growing pile of supplies. “Thanks again for driving the boys.”
“I enjoyed talking with them,” he said, scooping a handful of oats and nuts and doling a bit into his mouth. “They’re curious. And I think they’ll benefit from being around peers, as well as the adult mentors.”
“Did you eat?”
He nodded. “I checked in with River, and we had a quick dinner with Kaz and Wessel. And I filled your tank.”
My gaze shot to his. I wished I could accept everything helpful and attentive about him at face value. But that kiss earlier in the day, at the orchard? “Could you help me with one more thing tonight? I need to get into the attic, and the pull-down ladder is stuck.”
“Sure. Let’s do that now.” Tanner needed ten minutes of muted swearing to figure out the problem was rusted hinges. “When you get back from the ritual, you might want to have someone take a look at your roof before the rains get here. Could be a leak.” He held the sides of the lowered ladder and jammed the resistant hinges into place. The lone attic lightbulb, covered in grime, gave off a faint yellow glow. “Got a flashlight?” he asked.
“Right here. And thanks.” I started up the rickety steps and paused, sweeping the flashlight across the beams and floorboards until I spied what I was looking for.
When I first left this house for married life with Doug, my aunt had given me the child-sized steamer trunk packed with mementos: a few of my mother’s books, pieces of costume jewelry and glass vials of crystal beads, bundles of velvet and silk satin ribbons. A shoe box tucked into a bottom corner held squares of fabric, pinned together and ready for quilting
. Tiny blood-colored spots dotted the bits of cotton where the pins had rusted.
I went through the trunk’s contents with reverent hands.
One day, I would bring the trunk to my room and go through everything, piece by piece. Read every book, page by page. And hope something more of my mother would reveal itself. Because there was an empty place in my chest no one else had ever filled and questions I still wanted answers for. When all the magical happenings settled down, I planned to contact my cousins and ask whether my aunt had left any old photographs or scrapbooks with them before they moved her to the eldercare facility.
I sat back on my heels. If only I could take the contents of the trunk and make something beautiful to wear out of the fabric scraps, take apart the jewelry and…
I pivoted, attic dust swirling around me like a cascade of fairy sparkles, and yelled for Tanner. “Can you come here?”
The folding ladder squeaked with every step.
“What do you need?” he asked as his head and shoulders appeared through the rectangular hole in the floor.
“Could you help me get this down to my room?”
“Sure.”
My gaze swept the tent-shaped space and honed in on the low book shelf. “And those books too.” I slid the trunk to the opening. “Watch the straps,” I cautioned, pointing at the cracked leather strips tacked to either end. “One broke and the other looks just as fragile.”
“I can take this myself. Where do you want me to put it?”
“My office. The room across the hall from the ground floor bathroom.”
While he maneuvered the trunk down the ladder and stairs, I scanned the books. Childhood favorites, vintage cookbooks, and a set of binders from Good Housesweeping, all with faded spines and covered in fuzzy, brownish dust. Better to haul up my vacuum cleaner and clean them off first.
Tanner stepped to the bottom of the ladder and held the sides as I descended.
“On second thought, I’ll get the books later.” I blew drooping strands of hair out of my face. “We can close this up now.”
