I pulled on a pair of drawstring pants and opened the door to the hall. “Tanner!”
No answer. I ducked into my closet, pulled my arms out of my long-sleeved T-shirt, and wrangled myself into a shelf bra.
“What?” His sudden appearance in the outer doorway startled me.
I brought one hand to my throat, knocking my elbow against the corner of the bureau. “Ow! You’re making a lot of noise.”
He backed away and gave me space to enter the hall.
“And I can’t sleep,” I added.
“I’m sorry if I kept you awake. I was just about to set wards around the perimeter.”
“Can I come with you?”
“They’re just simple words, nothing terribly interesting or complicated.”
“But I’ve never watched someone set up protections around a house.” I held his gaze—or maybe he held mine—and my house held its breath. And when was the last time I watched anyone practice magic? I mentally rifled through my years under this roof, one with my mother, so many more without. The few displays of magic I could recall were tied to mundane things, like giving dropped plates a soft landing or knowing who was on the phone in the days before answering machines had caller ID.
Even as a little girl, I knew magic existed around me and in me. I knew not everyone was gifted with magical abilities, I knew to keep quiet about mine, and I knew it was safe to play openly within the confines of the property.
Tanner pulled out one of the oak kitchen chairs and sat. The topmost buttons of his shirt were undone, and a cord of intricately knotted threads looped his neck. Whatever hung from the cord was hidden underneath his shirt. He’d rolled up the bottoms of his pant legs, and left his flip flops by the front door.
I went from stirring the mists of memory to a minor revelation—Tanner Marechal had gorgeous feet. One heel rested on a chair rung, the other leg stretched forward. That I might have a foot fetish was news to me, but I wasn’t complaining. Nope. No complaints at all.
“Calli.”
My gaze flew to his, and my cheeks warmed.
“I have an idea,” he said, “a way for you to participate in the actual warding. I’ll do a simple three-part, basic protection: Warn. Protect. Defend. Prévenir. Protéger. Défendre.”
“Is that French?”
He nodded. “French was my first language. We’ll lay the perimeter ward first then come inside and apply wards to the windows and doors.”
“How can I help?”
Tanner slouched deeper into the chair and brought one heel to rest on the edge of the seat. He rubbed his bent knee, his gaze on the fingers playing a random rhythm against the bare wood of the dining table. “We’re going to brew a concoction using plants from your land. And some of your blood.”
“My blood? Isn’t blood used for…for bad magic?”
“The addition of blood creates stronger wards, and using your blood will tie the protective spells to you and your kin. There are wards in place already. They’re weak, but they’re blood-bound too.”
That was news to me. “Can you tell whose blood was used to create the wards?”
“I might be able to with time but not tonight.” He stared at me a moment and continued, “Do you get many visitors?”
“I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “But the boys do. Lots of their friends come in and out, sleep over, that kind of thing.”
“I’ll set the wards to admit anyone directly connected to the three of you.”
“Can you keep out my ex?” I was joking. Kind of.
“Seriously?”
“No, I’m just a bit upset with him right now.” I busied myself with rolling the waistband of my at-home pants, which were a little long for traipsing through the woods.
“Has he been bothering you?” The golden glow I’d first seen earlier in the day flickered around Tanner’s eyes and lashes. The faintest crackle split the air around his agitated fingertips.
“Physically, not at all. It’s…” No, I wasn’t going to spill the details of my failed relationship to this man, not yet. Not until he put shoes on and stopped glowing. “It’s not important.” I started for the front door. “Is there a particular plant I should gather?”
“Anything with thorns.”
Basket handle over one arm, clippers in the other hand, I gathered leaves and a couple of hard, unripe fruit from the crabapple tree in the center of my backyard. I wasn’t sure if Tanner wanted me to collect the actual thorns; I snapped a few off the tree just in case. The patches of wild blackberries and cultivated raspberries yielded stems, leaves, and juicy fruit. Closer to the woods, low-growing salal whispered its presence and offered up sharp-tipped leaves and ripening purple berries.
I stopped in the middle of cutting a sprig. Bears loved salal, though the island didn’t have much of an ursine population. An inner urge said to add the plant, but actively seeking and trusting my intuition was an atrophied muscle so I paused. Fur brushed the side of my thigh, and a wave of protective energy surrounded me from the ground up and over my head.
“Thank you,” I whispered, dropping three clusters of waxy leaves and dark purple berries into my basket.
Was Tanner expecting me to drink the tea? An image of the two of us walking the ambit of my property, peeing at strategic points, offered a giggly respite to the stress still playing through my body. I wasn’t sure what else to add to my collection of thorny things, so I sat on the ground and asked my land what more it had to offer, not expecting an answer but eager to see if I was on a roll.
Mullein.
The opposite of thorny and a purported apotropaic, mullein harbored the ability to ward off evil spirits. More esoterically, its flowering stalk was used by men to designate
