I let River’s assessment sink in. Tanner had yet to explain exactly when his association with Jessamyne had begun, and when their intimate relationship had ended. “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 to her condition was to settle on my island in her tree form, she had another think coming. I knew the best root ball specialists in all of Canada, and they owed me a job.
River stopped the motor 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, in an encounter that I continued to pick apart and analyze.
The Norse goddess intimated she had much to say to the mother-daughter duo charged with protecting the lineage of trees that produced her magical apples. The words she saved for Tanner and me were the ones I treasured. According to Idunn—and evinced by 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. Moving to Europe was not an option for me.
“And we’re done,” said River, quieting his machine. 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 out River’s work.
Even though I knew Aunt Noémi was dead, and Bear along with her, I wasn’t prepared for seeing the likeness of her animal familiar’s paw prints. River had positioned them precisely where I had often felt the ursine presence guarding and guiding me. The ink was stark, matte black, rimmed in reddish pink where my skin was irritated.
The emotional impact of Bear’s permanent departure took my breath away. My sinuses tingled, a warning that tears would come whether I welcomed them or not. I returned the mirror before my shaking hand dropped it and sat on the stool. “It’s beautiful,” I said, pressing my T-shirt to my cheeks. “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 to join me. “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.
“How are you doing?” I asked, happy to see she had ventured beyond the protective wards surrounding my property.
“I’m trying to be out in public more. But it’s really hard.” She and I paused in the parking lot, close to my car, my arms circling her shoulders. I hadn’t known this reserved young woman all that well prior to the summer’s cataclysmic events. Her side of the family frowned on rubbing elbows with the Joneses. Sallie was revealing herself to me and her cousins—to all of us—in fits and starts while she processed overwhelming, and at times incapacitating, feelings of shame.
Her parents, Josiah and Garnet Flechette, were in jail for murdering at least two hidden folk, the race of Magicals who tended to apple orchards throughout the Pacific Northwest. The work of the hidden folk went unseen by most human eyes, and their direct contact with sacred apple trees put them under Idunn’s protection as well as that of the Keepers.
The Flechettes were Fae—a major detail I had learned over the summer and one my ex-husband never saw fit to disclose during the fifteen-plus years we were together.
“Are you ready for this weekend?” I asked. The coming Friday marked the first mentoring weekend of the academic year for magical teens. Sallie and Thatcher planned to go. Harper and Leilani would attend if they made it home from the Northwest Territories in time.
“Yeah. No… Maybe?” she said, staring worriedly 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 her therapy cat, a Maine coon on extended loan from yet another witch. The presence of the imperious feline helped mitigate the effects of withdrawal Sallie had been experiencing. Josiah and Garnet had collared their only daughter starting when she was on the cusp of puberty, using spelled ribbons and jewelry to mute her magic and hide her unusual features from human eyes.
With her parents remanded to a subterranean holding cell, there was nothing external prohibiting Sallie from expressing her magic. She was just now coming to grips with who she was, what her nascent magical skills might be, and where she belonged. The problem was she—like me—had to take toddler steps.
“Have you asked Wes and Kaz about taking the cat along? I’m sure you’re not the only one who wants to bring a support animal.”
“No,” she responded, biting one of her already stubby nails. “Should I?”
“Yes. Absolutely. But I would ask Jasper’s owner first.” Steering us both toward my car, I clicked the key fob just as an oily, viscous sensation hit the bottoms of both feet. I sucked in a quick breath and tamped down the desire to stuff my niece into the vehicle and make a run for the safety of the heavily warded
