He stood and swept his cape to the side. He was garbed head to toe in snug black pants and a pullover shirt. Only his feet, hands, and head were bared. “We have been assigned to make a reconnaissance mission.”
“And you’re certain the Brodeurs want us to go to this particular property?”
His nod was solemn. He pointed to his wrist. “I have the coordinates right here.”
“Did Malvyn mention why he wants me on this mission? Did he happen to fill you in on the events of the past forty-eight hours? And isn’t this kind of dangerous?”
“Very dangerous,” Alabastair said, “but we have an advantage. The Flechettes are not expecting anyone to arrive on their property via portal. Why? Because no one has used it in forever. And while I do not know if Malvyn shared all the details with me, he did say this particular task is connected to information gathered via his interrogation of two Fae seeking to plea bargain their way out of…” He stopped reading off his watch. His widened eyes mirrored the celestial orbs I had been admiring. “Murder charges. Well, this is a first for me.”
“Me too.” I cocked my head to the side. “Though I’m not quite seeing how dropping an untrained individual into the middle of a protected property makes for smart spy work.” Malvyn must have been extremely short-staffed or desperate to send me into a venue I had no desire to see again. Especially with a half-cocked, cape-wearing lunatic.
The lunatic smiled. “Have you ever read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?”
I nodded, confused. So very, very confused. Alabastair had yet to win me over. Or Jasper.
“There’s the lion,” he said, pointing to Jasper, “you’re the witch, and I’ve got the wardrobe.” He felt for the edges of his cape, bowed, and offered his hand. “Come. Let’s see what’s in your closet. And by the way, Jasper is critical to our mission. I hope you have a cat carrier.”
Alabastair waited on the front porch, citing an allergy to cat fur and the desire to reread Malvyn’s notes. I left the caped crusader in the dark about coon cat’s fur being hypoallergenic while Jasper led me down the hall and into my room. The giant cat watched my preparations from my bureau.
Not at all creepy.
I found ankle-length yoga pants and a long-sleeved black shirt in a drawer and ducked into my closet to change. A bright orange slogan across the front of the shirt meant I would have to wear it inside out. I considered adding my red leather gauntlets to the ensemble, but that seemed like overkill and the reflective metal charms might prove too flashy for night work.
My wand. Opening the closet door to Jasper’s bored look, I located the wand underneath his tail and glared. He toyed with the length of motley ribbons before biting into one and hopping to the floor, prize in tow. I tucked the length of crabapple wood into the waistband of my stretchy pants and glanced over the badges taken from my mother’s Witchling Way banner: an apple, a seal, and a bear. The night of my party, I’d worn two of the three. Tonight, the bear volunteered to be my ally. I reached behind my neck and pinned the flat, weighted circle to the back of my shirt.
Bear had shown up before, faintly, on two occasions. If this outing with Alabastair went sideways there was a chance Bear would show up.
“Ready?” I asked Jasper. He blinked, discarded the ribbon, and pattered out. I followed him again, this time to the living room, where he hopped into the basket of books and mending. “Reminding me about the cat carrier, eh?”
He licked a paw.
“Alabastair?” I said, sending my voice beyond the screen door’s minimal barrier. “When you said cat carrier, what did you mean? Would a basket work?”
He pressed his face to the newly replaced mesh. “Does it have a lid?”
“Nope.”
“This is an island. Surely you have one of those declassé boat bag contraptions?”
I did. Complete with a zipper across the top. “Great idea. C’mon, Jasper, time to saddle up, kitty-cat.”
Jasper glared.
I was getting good at reading his expressions. “Would a snack help lift your mood?”
I unwrapped a power bar, added it to the canvas bag, zipped Jasper inside, and slipped one of my feet in its boot.
“Uh-uh. Barefoot, Calliope. You’re a capital-E Earth Witch, and it’s time to test those tootsies.”
“Al?”
He shuddered. “Please call me Bas.”
“Bas? Do you always talk like you’re auditioning for a show?”
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, grinning and holding both doors open.
Bas led our threesome to a spot adjacent to the old crabapple tree. I slowed my pace, tugged the wand out of my waistband, and palmed the thicker end of the smooth wood. The new stick had almost completely integrated the old one, and the filigree of branches glowed with a burnished, metallic hue. But there was no time to wonder at the transformation.
Alabastair turned his head side to side, searching the ground. “There should be portal stones here, and there are not. I can see I’m going to have to devote an inordinate amount of time to replenishing this poor tree.” Offering one arm, he turned his hand palm up and beckoned. “If you step close enough to touch me, we can travel together without the stones.”
My fingertips hovered over the thick tendon at the base of his wrist. His pale skin, with its greenish undertone, had the dulled luster of old marble. I made contact with Bas, wary of a sudden reaction, and searched for his eyes in the shadows cast by the cape’s hood. One brief moment of hesitation, enough to register that I might want to rethink his invitation, maybe even get a second opinion, before Alabastair pulled
